


Seen This Ship Before (it turns the ocean red)

by The_ship_that_wont_sink



Series: A Risk Worth Taking [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Action/Adventure, Angst, F/F, Past Torture, Pirates, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, all the whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-03-20 06:34:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13711938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_ship_that_wont_sink/pseuds/The_ship_that_wont_sink
Summary: The Legends face off against real life pirates of the Caribbean as they continue their quest to stop Damien Darhk and Mallus. Meanwhile, Sara struggles to keep it together as her nightmares get worse.Spoilers up to 3x09, cannon divergent from then on. There are a few (unintentional) similarities to some episodes post 09, but no actual spoilers.





	1. Black flag flying high

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the first chapter of episode 3. 
> 
> For anyone who is new to this series, then I do recommend going back and reading the first two stories, firstly cos I think they are worth reading (But then I am the author and biased), but mainly because they lay the groundwork for the plot to come and also delve quite deeply into the developing relationship between Sara and Ava. 
> 
> However they are pretty long, so if you don't wanna make the commitment to reading it all, I think you can jump on board at this point and it should still all make sense!!
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read, leave kudos or review the previous parts. It really does help motivate me to write this epic story!
> 
> This episode is a bit Ava-lite I'm sorry to say. She is still in it, but I've just put the focus on Sara and the Legends for a little bit. 
> 
> I admit I struggled somewhat with this chapter, maybe because I didn't have as much time to write this week, so had to do it in little bits. I'm possibly not as happy with it as I could be. Hopefully it turned out alright in the end though.
> 
> The title is from a song called 'the gruesome death of Edward Teach' by a band called Scissorfight. I'd never heard of it before, but came across it in my research. It's really not my kind of music normally, but its quite fitting for the episode. Anyway, I listened to it and it's actually really awesome! I definitely recommend giving it a listen!
> 
> Anyway, enough from me! Hope you enjoy the chapter...

_“You failed me”_

_The cold, unforgiving voice of Ra's al Ghul pierced the silence of the dusty hall, echoing off the ancient stone walls of Nanda Parbat._

_Fear coursed through Sara's body, holding her paralysed, as it snaked through her veins to seize her heart and turn her muscles to lead. Dread and terror gripped her mind, with the absolute certainty that she was about to die._

_“Well? Do you have nothing to say for yourself, Ta-er al-Sahfer?”_

_She felt one of the guards shift his weight next to her, a subtle sign of his unease. His hand was resting firmly against her shoulder, pressing her down, her knees numb as she knelt on the hard floor in front of her master. As if she would be foolish enough to think she could escape her fate._

_And still Ra's al Ghul expected an answer._

_Sara kept her eyes carefully trained at his feet as she spoke._

_“Ra's al Ghul, it was the man who was our target. The woman didn’t need to die as well.” Her voice was stronger than she expected, her words sounded brave despite her courage having failed completely._

_“And who decides who lives and who dies?” His voice was rhythmical and smooth, which did nothing to belie the menace lurking just below the surface._

_He leant down on one knee, coming to rest in front of her. His face was only inches away as he brought one hand up to grip her chin forcefully. Painfully._

_Sara willed the tears in her eyes away. She wouldn’t let them see her cry._

_“Not you, Ta-er al-Sahfer.”_

_He stood swiftly, suddenly, with all the grace one would expect from the man who was the head of the demon._

_“Ra's al Ghul. Father...”_

_Sara tried to twist her head round to look for the woman who risked the wrath of Ra's al Ghul to speak out for her. As soon as she moved, a strong hand grasped at her hair and wrenched her head back into place, the muscles in her neck protesting the violent movement._

_All she had managed was a fleeting glimpse of the beautiful woman in black. It was enough. She hadn’t wanted to die with the knowledge that Nyssa was angry with her. Or worse, that she didn’t care for Sara at all._

_But the fact that she had spoken out for Sara..._

_Ra's al Ghul held up his hand, effectively stopping Nyssa in her tracks. It turns out there would be no arguments on her behalf._

_“She will learn the price of failure. She will learn, or she will die.”_

_At his words Sara's heart jump-started with a painful jolt. So she was to be punished, but spared the death she had been told she had deserved._

_“We have spoken about this, Nyssa, my love.” Ra's continued, “When you found her. When she was nothing more than a wretched animal begging to be put down, and you convinced me to keep her alive and let you train her.”_

_It was as though the father and daughter were alone, having a private conversation, not stood here with half the members of the League of Assassins gathered to bear witness. Not with her on her knees in front of them all like some dog. Humiliated and ashamed. And yet his words had ignited a small spark of defiance within her._

_“And what did I tell you?” His voice was patient, as if explaining a concept to a small child._

_“You told me that I was a fool,” Nyssa's voice rang out, bold and unashamed. “And you told me, that when she failed, they would be my failures, and her punishments mine to bear.”_

_“So be it...” Ra's al Ghul decreed, his voice heavy with the weight of those three words. Three words that broke Sara more completely than anything else ever had._

_She looked up sharply and managed to catch Nyssa's eye. There was no accusation or hatred. Only relief._

_“NO!!” Sara cried out, unable to stop herself, straining against the hands of her captors. “You can’t...”_

_“You will hold your tongue, little bird, or I will kill you and still punish her twice as hard.”_

_All the energy sapped out of Sara at his words and she slumped down against the arms of the guards. The use of her nickname, the term of endearment Nyssa had recently started using, momentarily stunned her._

_From somewhere in the chamber came the sound of laughter. It was a deep, bellowing laugh which seemed to reverberate around so that Sara couldn’t pinpoint it’s origin. There was something sinister about it and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end._

_She frantically tried to look round to locate it’s source, but rough hands held her in place once again._

_Her eyes tracked back to Nyssa and Ra's al Ghul. He had removed her silks and was chaining her up against a pillar. She was naked from the waist up, her bare back facing the room, flawless in its perfection for all those gathered to witness. No one else paid the laughter any mind. It was as though she alone could hear it._

_Two apprentices appeared, heaving a large wooden chest between them with some effort. They set it on the floor at Ra's feet. He opened it and withdrew a long whip, which divided into three thongs from about halfway down the shaft. Sara was repulsed to see that these thongs were weighted with pieces of bone and metal embedded within them._

_“Your punishment, Nyssa al Ghul, is scourging by flagellum.”_

_He removed his cloak, and set his gold pendant aside. He walked up to the woman he was about to so wrongfully abuse, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Whispered something privately in her ear._

_Then there came a whirring vibration of sound through the air and then the sickening thwack as the leather thongs bit into the delicate skin of Nyssa’s back._

_“NO” Sara pleaded again, slamming her eyes closed._

_Ra's turned to her with fury written across his face._

_“I asked you for silence. There will be no more warnings. And you will pay close attention. Her punishment will continue until I deem you have observed enough. However long that may be.”_

_He turned back around. Sara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making any sound and forced her eyes back to the terrible scene in front of her, lest her actions be the cause of any more suffering for Nyssa._

_Again and again the flagellum arched through the air. The dull thudding sounds of impact becoming wet as deep lacerations began to tear her apart. Occasionally there could be heard a vile sucking sound as the thongs had to be pulled out from where they had embedded themselves too firmly within the gore of torn skin, muscle and blood that her back had become. Loose chunks flying out to decorate the floor around them._

_The cloying smell of iron was heavy in the air. Sara could taste it on her tongue. Bile rose up in her throat to fill her mouth. She tried desperately to swallow it down again. She felt like she was choking, she couldn’t draw enough breath into her lungs. Tears were streaming down her face. It didn’t matter what the others thought of her anymore. Nothing mattered anymore but the woman in front of her, and how she was being beaten to death all because of Sara._

_And ever present was the laughter. Filled with malevolence and glee, and growing louder with each new strike of the whip; and with each piece of Sara's soul that it took with it..._

***

Sara's eyes shot open.

She lurched out of bed, tumbling heavily to the floor as her bedsheets held her back, frantically scrabbling to free herself before stumbling towards the toilet, barely making it before she retched. Her unsteady legs trembling as she collapsed onto the cold tiles at its base.

Her throat felt raw as she heaved into the bowl. The acid of the vomit burning as it came up. She must’ve been screaming out loud. She felt absurdly grateful that the bedrooms on the Waverider were sound proof. She didn’t need to disturb her teammates sleep, and she certainly didn’t need them to witness her _weakness_ first hand.

Once she had emptied her stomach contents, her muscles relaxed. She rested her forehead on her arm across the toilet seat, and tried to calm the small tremors still wracking her body.

Her nightmares were getting worse. Not nightmares, she internally corrected herself. Memories. It was since she had been to see Rip, since she had spent that time with Ava... since then every time she closed her eyes and let sleep claim her she was plagued with the worst parts of her past, the parts that she struggled daily not to re-live. And each memory was always accompanied by the laugh, deep and satisfied, as if someone could be taking such enjoyment from watching all that suffering.

Tonight she had relived the moment when she had truly given her soul to the devil. When she had promised herself that she would do anything, whatever it took, to ensure that Nyssa’s pain and suffering would never again be on her hands. She had committed monstrous acts all based on that promise.

It was Mallus, she knew; the dreams, that laughter. Whenever she heard it she got the same sickening feeling she had when he spoke to her back in his dimension outside of worlds. It was like he was probing her mind. Searching her. Weighing her up. And he was getting more insistent. She knew she ought to talk to someone about it. Needed to really. But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. And what would talking do anyway? She just needed to be stronger than he was, that was all.

She allowed her eyes to drift closed tiredly. She was exhausted, if she was honest with herself. She hadn’t had a proper nights sleep in weeks. Even during her waking hours she constantly worried about Mallus and Darhk. About the bloodlust and becoming a monster. About hurting the people she loved...

After her few days in Aruba she had felt better. Not perfect. Not even good. But better than she had been. But it was all an illusion. Now she felt worse than she had before, on edge _all_ the time.

She was trying to put on a brave face, she really was. She tried to act normal, joking and teasing the others, joining in with the banter. She thought she’d been doing a good job. But she still saw the looks the team threw at each other from time to time, couldn’t ignore the worried glances furtively shared.

...And now they were preparing to take on the greatest evil the world has ever seen. In her darkest moments, such as now, she could admit to herself that she didn’t feel up to it.

She groaned. She _had_ to pull herself together.

She became aware she was shivering violently. She was drenched in sweat and freezing cold. Slowly, gingerly, she pulled herself up off the bathroom floor and rinsed her mouth out. Switched the shower on to scolding.

She stepped under the stream of steaming water and leant her head against the side of the cubicle. It was pounding, as if her skull was a couple of sizes too small for her brain. Although that likely had more to do with the super-strength kangaroo punch Amaya’s mom had dealt her - and the subsequent tree she’d cracked it against when she had been thrown through the air - than it did her nightmare.

Maybe she should have allowed Gideon to check it out after all. But she'd only been out a few seconds, she _thinks_ , and she wasn’t displaying any other signs of a concussion.

Zari had looked at her as though she had grown an extra head when she'd politely told the other woman that she wasn’t going to the med-bay.

_“Whatever. It's your funeral.”_

She had shrugged, before turning and walking off, no doubt either in search of food or video games. Sara, she could admit, still didn’t know the newest addition to team Legends all that well, but she had come to learn about the woman that she would put up one hell of a fight for something she believed in, but only if it was a fight she thought she could win.

It was her desire to get to know Zari better that had lead her to pair the two of them up together for their little kidnapping spree throughout time, as they removed themselves and their loved ones from the timeline in order to protect them.

It’s what they had been doing non-stop for the past two days. She had split them up to work in pairs; her and Zari, Amaya and Mick, and Ray and Leo. She'd asked Nate to stay behind to research a suitable anachronism for them to tackle next. One which had a high probability of the Darhk’s showing up to ruin their fun. Or so they would think.

It had been more physically and emotionally draining than she could have imagined. She could see it on the faces of the team, as they neglected sleep at their Captains request in order to finish the task. As they said goodbye to loved ones they rarely get to see, ones they knew they may never see again if things didn’t go to plan.

And it had clearly not been without it’s dangers, she thought ruefully, looking down at the collection of new bruises littering her shoulder and one side.

She had purposefully picked the one’s she knew would give the most problems. Namely, a totem wielding, ferociously protective, new mother in Zambezi. When they had inevitably been discovered trying to sneak out with a new born Amaya, Sara had taken the brunt of the woman’s fury, before Zari had managed to ensnare the woman in some kind of mini tornado and talk her round without any further violence.

It was okay though, she thought, the pain. It’s not like they weren’t well acquainted, old friends almost. But lately, well she'd been allowing Gideon to heal even relatively minor injuries, and if her body’s reaction to Ava putting a few stitches in her hand was anything to go by, then she was becoming soft. And she could not allow that to happen. So no more healing unless she really needed it.

And so what if she was relying on that pain to help her push her other feelings away. Feelings about Laurel and Martin. About Jax leaving. About how she’s responsible for Rip rotting away in prison... About how she could feel the bloodlust stirring once again just beneath the surface of her skin. She needed the pain to push _that_ away. It might not be healthy, but it was all she had right now. And it’s not like she was trying to get hurt on purpose.

***

She allowed herself a few more minutes to stand under the blistering water, allowed it to cleanse away the last vestiges of her dream, before she shut the faucet off and stepped out.

Wrapping herself in a soft over-sized dressing gown, one she kept for times when she had an urge to feel some kind of comfort, and one she would die – or kill – to prevent her team finding out about, she made her way back into her bedroom. She checked the time on her phone display. Still five hours until Nate was due to brief the team about the anachronism he had selected for them to face.

She sighed. She’d only managed about three hours, but going back to sleep was out of the question. Looked like it was gonna be another day fuelled by an excess of caffeine and too much sugar.

On impulse she picked up her phone once more and hit her thumb over the ‘on’ button. Her screen lit up with the photo of her and Ava she'd taken the other day. Sara grinning like an idiot and Ava looking disgruntled, frowning like it was the worst thing in the world that could be happening to her.

Unbidden, a soft smile rose to Sara's lips. She had set and un-set this picture as her background about twenty times in the three days since it had been taken. But right now she was glad for it. An overwhelming desire to see the agent, to speak to her, came over Sara. She almost gave in to it and dialled the number, craving the comfort and reassurance she knew by now that even just seeing the woman would bring.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. That was the weak part of her, the selfish part. It wasn't fair to Ava for a start. It was 4am. She was sure even the workaholic agent wouldn’t be up at this god-forsaken hour. And what would she even say anyway?

_‘Hi Ava, I know it’s 4am and that I probably just woke you up, and we’ve barely spoken since that time when I almost killed a guy and then kissed you... But I had a nightmare and want you to make it better. A nightmare about my ex, to be specific, and how I once got her beaten half to death by her own father... Oh and I think Mallus might be controlling my dreams... But how are you anyway..?’_

Yeah, or not.

She'd been battling with her feelings for Agent Sharpe, Ava, for a while. Since Ava had wound up on the Waverider one night the other week while Sara was alone and drunk off her face. Fuck, was it really only the other week? It almost felt like lifetimes had passed since then.

But it was since the two of them had gone to see Rip, and then ended up drinking together in a bar afterwards... Since she had allowed herself to get carried away and kiss the other woman, that Sara had to admit to herself that she really did have feelings for Ava. To be honest, that was freaking her out almost as much as the whole Mallus thing.

They'd spoken only once since then. Sara had video called her at work to let her know that she had successfully (and personally, she made sure to add) removed baby Ava, along with her parents and brother, from the timeline.

Something about the call had left Sara feeling a little cold, and she struggled to put her finger on what it was. Maybe it was the way Ava had hurried their conversation to a close, barely meeting her eye. Maybe it was the absence of that shy, flirty smile Sara had grown to enjoy so much.

It had all just seemed too polite. Impersonal. As if the last few weeks hadn’t happened and she was once again addressing Agent Sharpe, rather than _her_ Ava. It was only when Sara had asked if everything was alright that Ava had finally met her eye, and there was that soft, tender look once again.

_“I’m fine Sara... I just.. I can’t talk now okay? Keep me updated.”_

And with that she had ended their call. No awkward goodbyes, and no lingering looks.

She almost called straight back, but then Ava had made it pretty clear she didn’t want to speak right then. Or maybe she couldn’t.

In a panic she’d had Gideon search through the database as well as all the bureau’s recent communications and CCTV footage to make sure nothing was amiss. That there wasn't any kind of hostage situation or hostile takeover. That Ava wasn’t currently in the middle of any life threatening crisis.

She wasn’t.

Sara felt somewhat foolish. She also felt somewhat guilty for the twinge of disappointment she felt. It meant she wouldn’t be getting to swoop in playing the hero to rescue the girl. Not that Ava was the type to need rescuing. Knowing Ava, she would probably have found a way to rescue herself and everyone else before Sara had even made it to the building! But still, a girl could fantasize.

Unfortunately it also meant that Ava, for whatever reason, just didn’t want to talk to her.

_For whatever reason._

She almost scoffed. It was pretty clear what that reason was. Ava was obviously having second thoughts about them. And that’s if she’d ever even had first thoughts about them to begin with. To be honest, she didn’t know if Ava was even into women. Sure they'd flirted and slow danced together, and Sara had felt a definite spark. And it wasn't like Sara to be wrong about something like this. But still, she had to admit she'd been pretty off her game lately, what with everything else going on.

It was for the best anyway. She’d only end up hurting the other woman. She'd never been good at relationships. Just look at her track record. First there was Oliver, who was actually seeing her sister at the time. Then Nyssa, who she'd ran away from once and then allowed herself to be talked into leaving to rot in a cell – now didn’t that sound familiar – And then finally Ollie again, who she'd pulled away from just as they started to get close.

And that was all before she died. Now there was all of those pieces to contend with. Sure she'd been with people, plenty of women and men throughout history. But they were safe. One night only. They were easy and fun and no one gets hurt. That was what she did best.

Her biggest fear though was that she could end up hurting Ava more than just emotionally. She almost had already.

Her throat suddenly closed up as the image that was burnt into her brain, the image of Ava’s face; the fear and confusion as she prepared to defend herself, flashed again through her mind.

With a sigh, she allowed her screen to fade to black, then put her phone away.

***

There was something niggling at the back of her mind, had been since she’d woken from her nightmare. Something that was more than just her blinding headache.

It came upon her at once, like an anvil to the head.

Nyssa.

She hadn’t taken steps to protect her. Yes, she was relatively secure within the League of Assassins, but Darhk was a more than capable fighter, and Ra's al Ghul wouldn’t know he was coming.

She had to go and warn him. Ask his permission to take baby Nyssa into safe keeping.

Five hours. If she took the jump ship now she could be back in time for Nate’s briefing.

***

“Are you sure this is a wise idea, Captain Lance?”

The disembodied voice of the ships AI sounded out, loud in the confined space of the jump ship.

Sara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She really didn’t have time for a lecture.

“Am I sure _what_ is a wise idea Gideon?” Sara snapped impatiently and then felt bad.

“Going alone to Nanda Parbat.”

“Yes. But I assume that’s your way of telling me you don’t agree, right?” She was used to the ship's ways of challenging her by now.

“Correct, Captain.” Gideon sounded perpetually amused as always.

“Aww, I knew you always cared about me Gideon.” Sara deflected with just a hint of sarcasm.

“It is my job to look out for the wellbeing of the crew aboard this ship. That goes even more so for their captain, Captain.”

Sara could clearly imagine the Gideon from Rip's mind, the hot one who she had definitely had an inappropriate dream about that one time, which the AI would definitely have been monitoring; she could imagine that Gideon raising an eyebrow smugly.

“Well thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine. If anyone can deal with the League of Assassins, it’s me. Besides, no one else is awake. I’ve had them working hard enough over the past 48 hours. They need to rest if we're gonna be able to deal effectively with this anachronism.”

“And I suppose you just happen to be exempt from requiring such respite Captain?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware Gideon, rest hasn't exactly come easy for me recently.”

“Precisely my point.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Sara closed her eyes. She could feel the dull pounding in her skull intensifying.

“It means, that you’ve experienced nightmares every night for the past two weeks. Your brainwaves are off the chart, your blood pressure is elevated, and you have got through numerous bottles of strong liquor. I'm sorry Captain, but I believe your ability to make reasonable decisions may be somewhat compromised.”

Sara felt herself bristle at the words of the all-knowing computer.

“If this is about my decision not to allow you to heal my injuries...”

“It is.”

“Well we’ve been over this already, and I already told you...”

“Yes Captain Lance.” Gideon cut her off. A hint of snark to her words, if that was even possible. “And I have already told you that I believe your decision to be a sign of irrational thinking. Your chances of defeating Damien Darhk are significantly reduced if you're not at 100%. In fact, I calculate you chances of defeating Mr Darhk to be...”

“Gideon, I don’t wanna know! This is something I need to do, with or without your approval.”

“Without.” Gideon huffed.

“Fine. Are you gonna stop me from leaving?”

“My programming doesn’t allow me to go against your orders Captain Lance, except in exceptional circumstances. Unless you are ordering me to stop you?”

“I’m not. In that case, plot a course for Nanda Parbat, 1st May 1985.”

“As you wish Captain. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Look Gideon, chill out. If it all goes to plan I’ll be back before the team even knows I’m gone.”

***  
It didn’t all go to plan.

Hours later Sara stumbled off the jump ship, and back out into the familiar, and thankfully deserted, hallways of the Waverider.

She was late. It was well past 0900; the time they were supposed to assemble.

She felt grimy against the sterile surroundings of her ship. The clean filtered air with its constantly maintained climate was a stark contrast to the dusty and draughty cell that had been her home for the last few hours.

She limped back to her room as quickly as she could. However late she was, she needed to clean herself up, at least a bit, before any of her team saw her like this.

Once safely inside she allowed herself a moment to relax. And to feel sorry for herself. She looked in the mirror and grimaced. She looked even worse than she thought.

There was blood matted in her hair and smeared across her forehead. Her face was dirty and her mouth was dry. She could still taste the dust from the floor of the cell on her tongue. Could feel it in her lungs.

And her head felt like it was splitting open.

She was only permitted a moment, and then a loud chipper voice echoed from the walls of her bathroom.

“I take it things all went to plan then Captain?” Gideon sounded smug.

Sara winced. Both at the insinuated ‘I told you so’ and the way the AI’s voice seemed to rattle through her brain.

“Clearly not Gideon.” Sara groaned, her voice weary.

It hadn't gone to plan at all.

_From the moment she stepped off the jump ship she had felt herself falter. The vestiges of her nightmare that she had been able to lock away suddenly came crashing back over her. She could almost smell the blood in the air, almost hear the sound of the flagellum on the whisper of the wind. She had felt her heart rate increase with the flare of anger she felt. With the trickle of fear down her spine._

_She had allowed herself to become distracted._

_She had also underestimated the League’s response to an intruder. A stupid mistake for her to make. Of course with the impending birth of Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter they would be taking no chances._

_She was more than a match for most of the League's Assassins. But when the alarm was raised and five hooded and cloaked figures dropped noiselessly down around her, she immediately realised she wasn’t fighting just any members of the League. She was facing seasoned and skilled Masters of the art. The most proficient the League had to offer. Even here these men and women were feared and respected._

_It was one of the trials an apprentice had to face before being accepted as an Assassin of the order. Combat against a Master. It was a trial at which the apprentice wasn't expected to prevail. It was the manner of the defeat which decided whether the supplicant passed or failed._

_She should have surrendered herself then and there. She should have ignored her instinct to fight, knowing she would not be victorious._

She hadn't.

“But it wouldn’t have helped having any of the team there either. It would’ve only meant that they would’ve gotten hurt too.” She continued, allowing herself to relive her failure.

_She had woken up face down on the floor of a cell, the tang of copper in her mouth mixing with the taste of dirt. Her wrists and ankles ached from the tight manacles she was chained in, a whisker away from cutting off her circulation entirely. She'd clearly been lying here for some time. The world tilted as she pushed herself up, and she had to swallow down her nausea. Another head injury; just what she needed._

_She tried to piece together what happened. She remembered fighting the five Masters. Holding her own, repelling their attacks. But they were too strong and too skilled. There were too many of them, everywhere, all at once._

_She remembers a sharp pain to her kidney as a booted heel connected heavily with her back. Staggering forward, winded and off balance. She remembers seeing the hilt of a katana sword out of the corner of her eye; remembers being too slow to block it. She remembers a blinding pain in her head and then the solace of unconsciousness taking over._

“Forgive me for saying, I told you so, Captain Lance” Gideon had lowered her voice, clearly aware of her captain’s fragile state. The voice sounded less smug now. If Sara had to pinpoint it, she would have said that the AI sounded concerned. Maybe she really did need to rethink things if she was even making her ship's computer worried.

“Did you at least manage to relocate Ms. al Ghul to a secure location?”

_Sara gripped the bars of the cell to keep herself steady. She tried to summon her anger and resolve. She focused on the pain. Anything to keep the blackness she could feel crawling at the edges of her vision at bay._

_There were guards just outside her prison. She couldn’t see them, but she knew they would be there._

_Taking a deep breath, she wrapped the manacles at her wrists against the rusted iron of the bars. Pins and needles shot painfully through her hands and up her arms, almost a welcome relief compared to the numb cumbersome blocks they had become._

_The loud clanging had the desired effect, and a couple of guards entered the room, standing safely on the other side of the bars._

_“I demand to speak with Ra's al Ghul.” She ordered with all the power and confidence she could muster. It was imperative she look strong. If they thought her weak and insignificant she could languish in here for days._

_The guards laughed in her face. One spoke in a thickly accented voice._

_“Prisoners do not make demands.”_

_“Tell him Ta-er al-Sahfer wishes to speak with him. Tell him I have an urgent message about his unborn daughter. Nyssa.”_

_The guards looked at each other. They conversed quietly in Arabic. No one yet knew the name Ra's al Ghul had decided to give his daughter._

_Sara gave no indication that she understood every word._

_Eventually one of the guards left the room. The other took up position against the door, suspicious eyes following her as she went to sit against the wall of her cell._

“Yes Gideon. Nyssa’s safe.”

Sara allowed her eyes to drift closed in relief.

Nyssa was safe. But Sara had come very close to failing.

_“Ta-er al-Sahfer.” The man who was the head of the demon greeted her. “I had not expected to see you again. It’s been three decades, and you look exactly as I remember.”_

_At the sight of him, a burning fire raged through Sara. In her mind’s eye she could see him, as clear as he was now. Nyssa's blood splattering his face and clothes . She felt the bloodlust stirring, pulsing against her skin._

_He looked into her eyes, and whatever he saw there caused him to take a step back, surprise and confusion on his face._

_“Such rage and hatred.” He observed smoothly, managing to compose himself quickly. “You are here to assassinate me. Well to attempt it. A poor attempt I have to say.” He sneered at her._

_She focused on the throbbing in her head, and with a strength of will she hadn’t realised she possessed, she pushed her feelings down._

_“Ra's al Ghul. It’s been a while. And yes, I have my reasons to hate you, but I assure you, I’m not here to assassinate you.”_

_He had looked intrigued. Amused almost._

_“I admire your honesty. I assume you will not tell me what I have done to have engendered such abhorrence."_

_When Sara remained silent he continued._

_“So tell me, what message is so important that you risk your life to bring it to me. Tell me, and I will decide if you may leave with your life.”_

And Sara had told him. Told him everything. About Damien Darhk, about Mallus. About a future where, for a time, Nyssa would come to mean everything to her.

And against all odds, he had chosen to believe her. Entrusted her with Amina Raatko and his unborn child. Permitted her to depart with them and one of the Masters to watch over them.

But as she had made her painful way back to the jump ship, her new charges in tow, he had issued her with a parting message,

_“Know this, Ta-er al-Sahfer, if harm should come to my daughter, if you betray me, where ever you are... when ever you are... I will hunt you down, and there will be no mercy. And any pain that you believe yourself to have suffered, will be nothing compared to the pain I will bring. Is that clear?”_

“I believe the rest of the Legends are wondering where you are Captain.”

Gideon’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Can you tell them I’ll be there in five, please Gideon... I just need to get myself cleaned up.”

“Certainly Captain Lance. And your newest head injury?”

Sara internally groaned. Her ship was the most stubborn person she knew. Which didn’t make sense, but then she had just suffered two concussions so she gave herself a pass on that one.

“Fine, you win. You can look at it later. But in the mean time I could really use a couple of Advil.”

“Already done. And I’m glad you’ve finally seen sense Captain. I do sometimes wonder if any of you have an ounce of common sense to rub together.”

“Don’t push it Gideon...” Sara warned playfully.

She grabbed the pills that had appeared on the side along with a large glass of water. She swallowed them and downed the glass, relishing the way the cool liquid soothed her parched throat.

She thought of Ava as she cleaned herself up. About what the stern agent would say if she were there. Call her an idiot probably. Although she really hadn’t said that in quite a while.

She smiled.

She would call Sara a nightmare. But then her eyes would turn soft, and she would look at her with that gentle, concerned look. The one that says she really cares.

She would brush the strand of hair out of Sara’s face, maybe run soothing fingers over the wound before planting a kiss there. Before moving her lips down, kissing her forehead, then her jaw. Before kissing her fully, tenderly on her mouth. Before biting hard on her lip, chastising her for causing Ava to worry so.

Sara's eyes snapped open. Internally berating herself she stood up straight. A sharp pain in her back drawing her focus. She couldn’t think like that about Ava. About anyone. Thinking those kind of thoughts lead her down a dangerous path. Wanting the impossible. Hoping for things that could never happen.

She pushed the thoughts away. She looked in the mirror for a final time. Not perfect; but good enough.

***

She paused outside the bridge. She could hear the sounds of her team mates inside. Could hear Nate explaining something loudly and enthusiastically. Heard as laughter erupted at whatever it was he said.

A feeling of warmth grew inside her. She used it to fortify her, so she could stand up straight and square her shoulders, and not limp or grimace. She used it to put on her cloak of confidence that she was expected to wear.

Once she felt like herself, at least enough to not arouse suspicion, she stepped through the door.

The Legends were all casually lounging around. Comfortable and at home. A family.

Zari and Amaya were chatting together, Zari half way through eating a stack of pancakes. Nate was sitting up on the counter with a large cup of coffee. A sure sign that his briefing would be interesting, to say the least. Ray leant nearby, tinkering with some new invention or other, and Leo and Mick were sitting together at the other side of the room. Mick already with a beer in his hand. Sara wondered idly if Gideon gave him as much grief as she herself got from the AI.

They all looked up as she entered.

“About time Captain.” Leo's nasally voice greeted.

If Sara was honest, she still didn’t know how to take this alternate earth's doppelganger of Leonard Snart. Still, he had proven himself multiple times to be an effective ally of the team, and that was really all she needed to know.

“Sorry I’m late.” She apologised. “I just had something I had to take care of.”

“Everything okay?” Ray asked sincerely, looking at her a moment too long.

“Peachy.” She deadpanned back, and before anyone could suggest otherwise she looked across to the excitable man on the counter.

“Nate. You’re up... The anachronism please...”

 


	2. Terror of the seas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'll try and keep this brief (Well, miracles might happen!)
> 
> First off, sorry that there's been a bit of a delay posting this chapter. I didn't get quite as much time to write this week as I would have liked. 
> 
> That being said, one of the reasons for the delay is that I wanted to get a head start on the future chapters. I've now pretty much finished chapter 3 as well, and should be able to start work on chapter 4 tomorrow. 
> 
> This (hopefully) means I can avoid any long delays between chapters for the rest of the episode, and I will aim to get 2 chapters out per week. I'll see how that goes anyway!! 
> 
> Thank you so so much to everyone who left kudos or took the time to comment on the last chapter. Seriously, all your comments have kept me going when I've felt stuck this week, so thank you very much!
> 
> On to the next part... hope you guys don't think it's too boring or not worth the wait... There is a lot of info to digest, but hopefully it sets the scene for the rest of the episode 
> 
> (P.s. I've tried to be as accurate as I can with all the historical stuff, but I'm no historian, and have solely relied on the wonders of Google... so please forgive any mistakes and inaccuracies :D)

“Seriously guys, I have got _the best_ anachronism for us... Literally not even kidding”

Nate sprang down off the centre console, barely managing to keep hold of his coffee cup. Clearly thinking better of it, he put it down to one side, precariously balanced on the edge of a seat.

The big man was practically buzzing. Whether from the coffee or excitement Sara couldn’t tell. Probably both, she thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. His energy was making her head hurt. Well more than it already did. She needed those pills to kick in and fast. And she _really_ needed a coffee.

“It’s a level 6. 1718. West Indies.”

He paused and looked about the room, hands in the air in a ‘ta-dah’ motion, and an expectant grin on his face. Finding that his enthusiasm was met with a collection of blank and disinterested stares his expression fell.

“Come on! 1718..? It is _actual_ pirates of the Caribbean!!”

“I believe what Mr Heywood is trying to say is that piracy was at its most prevalent in the West Indies during the early part of the eighteenth century. In fact piracy was rife all through the Caribbean Sea from the Gulf of Mexico to the coast of South America.” Gideon, ever helpful, chipped in.

“Awesome”

“Cool. I love pirates”

Echoed out from opposite quarters of the deck.

Sara allowed herself a small smile at the predictability of her team. Across from her, she saw Zari and Amaya share an amused glance between them. Nate beamed, his passion returning with the enthusiasm of the others.

“Thanks Gideon. Anyway, as I was saying... There were many notorious pirates that sailed these waters during this era. But 1718 is especially relevant to one man in particular... Edward Teach, or better known...as one Captain Blackbeard...”

“ _Blackbeard!!_ As in  _the_ Blackbeard?!” Sara exclaimed, interrupting the historian before he managed to get himself on a roll. She was interested now despite herself.

Nate aimed a pair of finger guns at Sara and made a popping sound with his mouth in acknowledgement.

“The one and only. Edward Teach was born in England in the 1680's, but at some stage moved out to the Caribbean, and reportedly worked as a privateer on a ship during the War of Spanish Succession. And once the war ended, like many of the privateers, he fell into piracy...Now the earliest reports of Blackbeard’s pirate activities emerged in 1716, which put him working with another man, Benjamin Hornigold, around the notorious pirate island of New Providence...” Nate continued in full flow, barely pausing to take a breath.

“Nate” Sara interrupted again, aware that if they weren’t careful they could end up with a full history lesson on every last detail about the particular time period. It had happened before. “The anachronism?”

“Right, totally getting there... anyway, Blackbeard became one of the most successful and notorious pirates in history... Gideon?” He handed over to the AI.

“Correct, Mr Heywood. In fact at the height of his pirate career he was thought to have been in command of at least four ships and over three hundred men. He was able to successfully lay siege to the South Carolina port of Charles Town, or Charleston as it is now known.”

Gideon highlighted the point by displaying a series of newspaper clippings from the era. Sara managed to catch a couple of headlines reading ‘ _Pirates come to Charles Towne_ ’ and ‘ _Blockade of port: Terror in Towne_.’ There were also a few sketches of a fearsome looking man with a great black beard.

The others had all gathered around the console now as well in order to observe Gideon’s research.

“Okay so Blackbeard continued to raid and plunder until the summer of 1718, when, for one reason or another, he decided to accept a pardon from the governor of North Carolina...” Nate once again picked up the mantle of the tale. “He settled there for a while, but the quiet law-abiding life clearly didn’t take, and it only took him a short time to get back to his pirate ways...

“Now unfortunately for Blackbeard, that was the beginning of the end for him. The governor of Virginia basically started up a personal crusade against him, and in November 1718, the governor's men managed to catch up with him here...” he pointed to a virtual map that was now floating in front of them, “...off the coast of Oracoke Island. Blackbeard was killed in the fighting... _Or_ , at least that’s what should have happened.”

Nate paused for breath, giving the others a slight chance to catch up to him. Sara rubbed at her eyes tiredly, her brain still not ready to cope with the information overload it was receiving. She loved Nate, as she loved them all, and she really did appreciate how much time and effort he always put into researching each mission. It’s just _sometimes_ she wished he would just... chill out.

When she looked up she saw Ray watching her with a bit too much interest. Quickly she pulled herself together.

“So this Captain Blackbeard is our anachronism?” Zari piped up around a mouthful of pancakes.

The man of steel clicked his fingers at her as he answered.

“Well that’s what I thought... but then I did a bit of research... sorry Gideon,” He amended at the impertinent huff issued from the ceiling... “ _we_ did some research and it turns out that at the time he was supposed to die, Blackbeard wasn't on Oracoke Island as he should have been, but hundreds of leagues to the south, back at his old haunt of New Providence...”

He pointed to another location on the map, and looked about the room. His excitement clearly bubbling to the surface and his face animated. Ray was the only one who seemed to match his enthusiasm, however even Mick appeared to be paying attention for a change, so Sara thought the history buff could still probably count it as a win.

“Anyway, we're not too sure exactly what Blackbeard was doing there, but reports at the time suggest a large gathering of pirates on New Providence which caused merchant vessels to avoid the area...

“It just so happens that only weeks before his death in the original timeline, one of Blackbeard's friends, Charles Vane, along with a man known as Calico Jack, both prolific pirates themselves at the time, visited with Blackbeard and legend has it, attempted to persuade him to join with them in forming a pirate kingdom in the Caribbean...”

“Pirate kingdom. Cool” Came the grunted appreciation of Mick Rory, quickly followed by a loud belch as he finished his beer.

“Anyway, they weren’t successful at convincing him, or at least shouldn’t have been...but something clearly changed his mind, and it was my guess that whatever that something was, is our anachronism...” He paused for dramatic effect.

“ _Okay_. You fancy letting us in on what that might be??...” Zari prodded dryly, the usual sarcasm in her voice effectively dispelling the tension her team mate was trying to create.

“Right, so we investigated it further, and it seems that the pirates did manage to create their kingdom, and together they were able to defeat the forces sent by both the British Crown and several US governors to get rid of them. The interesting thing is the descriptions in the newspaper reports about these battles... Gideon?”

Gideon flashed up another series of ancient articles, detailing what appeared to be the complete massacre of any forces that tried to oppose the pirates.

“As you can see,” Nate ploughed on, “the descriptions and drawings of the weapons and injuries they inflicted on their adversaries is beyond anything that should have been seen in that time period... We’re talking machine guns, laser rifles, sonic grenades... pretty much everything out of your back catalogue of _guns and ammo_... which _means_ , our anachronism isn’t so much as a who, but a what... and that ‘what’ seems to be whole hoard of treasure of the more lethal variety.”

“Got it... Advanced weapons. Pirates. Equals very bad.” Ray summarised.

“Exactly.” Nate nodded to his buddy. “And as a consequence, trade across not just the Atlantic, but also with the far East, almost ground to a halt. Companies such as the East India Company and the Royal African Company actually ceased trading altogether...”

“That company traded in slavery.” Amaya interrupted, her voice hard. “Trade across the Atlantic was powered by slaves and the blood of the African people. You can’t expect me to be happy about being a part of stopping something which effectively ended the slave trade almost a century early...?”

Nate looked pained as the excitement on his face drained away. “ _Amaya_...” He started, a note of pleading in his voice.

“I know.” She cut him off again. “I know that we can’t try and change history, it’s just...” She trailed off, not needing to say more.

Something had changed in the atmosphere of the room. Moments before it had been filled with excited anticipation, but now despondency seemed to be heavy in the air; the weight of duty dragging them down. Once again, doing the right thing was extracting its price.

Sara shook her head at the unfairness of it all. She regretted it immediately when a wave of nausea threatened to turn her stomach. She gripped the console tight.

She shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts anyway. It should be her keeping the team together, which she’d been doing a bad enough job of lately as it was.

“I’m sorry love,” She said softly but determinedly, choosing the term of endearment she sometimes bestowed on the woman who was slowly becoming her closest confidant on the timeship. “I don’t think we're gonna be able to find any loopholes for this one.” Her eyes met Zari's for a brief second, the other woman having the grace to look sheepish. But she chose not to comment, however, and instead put a comforting hand on Amaya's shoulder, briefly letting the other woman’s warmth soak into her. It was intended as a gesture of support for her friend, but Sara found that she took her own comfort from the contact, and even as slight as it was, it was almost too much for her to bear.

She removed her hand.

“Right... So, get the guns, get the pirate, and get out?” She threw the question to the group in the kind of breezy way she hoped they bought. “ _And_ hope Damien Darhk shows up at some point along the way.”

It was Nate that responded. An exaggerated wince crossing his face.

“Well, actually... There was one more little thing...”

Because it could, of course, never just be straight forward.

***

“So you’re telling me that because these pirates disrupted trade to the extent that the industrial revolution was _actually_ delayed by thirty years, Dr Palmer hasn’t yet been able to launch Palmer Tech, and that the technology to build his suit won’t exist for _at least_ another twenty years?”

Ava looked serious as she stared down at Sara from the large screen in the Captains office. There was a slight frown on her face and her lips were pressed together into a thin line as she considered all that Sara had just told her.

Sara thought for a moment before replying. “Pretty much... I mean, Nate talks a lot, and it’s difficult to pay attention to him like, the _whole_ time... but yeah, think that’s pretty much the gist.”

Ava sighed. Sara knew she was holding in the urge to issue some form of insult or other. Probably to do with how Sara didn’t take anything seriously enough. Or words to that effect.

However just being able to see the agents face, to engage her in the kind of banter that had become their _thing_ , had made Sara feel almost back to normal. As though her day hadn’t already gone entirely to shit in a multitude of different ways when it wasn’t even yet nine thirty.

Ava was still slightly stiff, guarded almost. But at least she wasn't trying to rush her off the call this time. Her hair was back to being tied up in it’s ‘bureau bun’, as Sara had started calling it. Although now, it only made Sara think of how much she wanted to be the one to pull it loose, to run her fingers through it to straighten out the kinks.

“And we don’t really know how long until this anachronism cements,” Ava surmised, “so in theory, Dr Palmer could lose his atom suit at any time, and what’s more... what on earth are you grinning at?”

“Ah, nothing... Sorry. Carry on.”

Sara internally cursed herself for how obvious she was. She really needed to get a grip.

“Hmm...” Ava eyed her suspiciously, though refrained from saying anything further about it. “Anyway, my main worry is, what happens if Darhk shows up and Palmer doesn’t have the suit? Your plan to capture Nora relies on that technology...”

Sara sighed.

“Look, don’t worry okay. If Darhk shows up, we’ll work with what we have.” Sara paused seeing Ava's frown of disapproval. “I’m not gonna put my team in jeopardy Ava,” She reassured, “If we can’t handle it, I’ll pull us out. Exit strategy, you know?”

Ava didn’t seem convinced. She raised an eyebrow.

“You know the meaning of the phrase ‘Exit strategy’? I have to say I didn’t think that was in your vocabulary.”

“Haha. And yes, I know what it means. I’m not just some clueless wannabe you know. I happen to be a highly trained ex-member of a top-secret organisation...”

“Of assassins. Yes I got the memo thank you.”

Despite her words, Sara saw amusement flick across Ava’s features, and she felt a flutter in her chest in response.

“Actually, was gonna go with the League of awesome bartenders, but whatever...” Sara countered, feeling smug as she watched the woman struggle to keep a smile from her face.

“Anyway, we could use all the help we can get on this one, so... you in?”

“Sara...” Ava sighed, and Sara felt her heart drop at the sound, already knowing what would follow. “I can’t, not this time. I’m sorry.” Ava's expression became pained at her words.

“What?! Why not? Surely this is more important than anything the bureau has you working on!”

“That’s just it. As far as the Time Bureau knows this is just another level 6 anachronism. There is no way that they will authorise wasting precious manpower aiding the Legends on an apparently straight forward mission... I can’t sneak off to assist you anymore Sara, Director Bennett is already suspicious enough as it is.”

Sara couldn’t even listen to the end of Ava's sentence as unexpected anger surged through her at the agents words.

“ _Wasting precious manpower_! You have _got_ to be kidding me! Well you know what? Great. At least now _I know_ what you actually think of me.”

“Shit. No... That’s not what I meant Sara, please... You know that’s not what I think of you. You know I would absolutely come if I could.” Ava pleaded.

“So come, Ava. Screw the bureau and come anyway.”

“I can’t. I really am sorry Sara.”

Sara's posture turned hard. Arms folded across her chest, muscles taught as though ready to spring.

“Well then fine. Whatever. We don't need your help anyway. We’ll be just fine...”

She was cut off by a loud crash behind her.

Sara whipped around at the sound. The room tilted dangerously and her vision swam, and she felt herself waver. She grabbed onto a chair for support.

Nate was stood there, looking awkwardly about him, as though he had just been caught in the act. The shards of his coffee cup lay scattered across the floor.

“Uh, hey Sara... I’ll just...” He gestured towards the mess somewhat helplessly.

“Nate. Just leave it.” She said more harshly than she intended, still trying to get her nausea, along with her emotions, under control.

She turned back to the screen more slowly as Nate scampered away. Ava was looking at her closely. Concern written on her face.

“What's wrong with you?”

“What? Nothing?” Sara quickly denied.

“I don't buy that Sara.” Ava's voice was firm. “Why did it look like you could barely keep yourself upright just then, and...” She narrowed her eyes, “What’s that on your hairline... Do you have a head injury Sara?”

“It's nothing. And what do you care anyway?” Sara spat, denying the agents accusation.

“You know what Ava, you made it pretty _clear_ that you’re not interested, so you just get back to whatever shitty report they got you doing now, and let me go get on with my mission.”

“For God’s sake Sara, why d...”

But whatever Ava was going to say got cut short, as Sara abruptly ended the conversation. Ava’s face, a dichotomy of worry and annoyance, disappeared into the black screen.

Sara's throat was painfully tight as she stood rooted to the spot, not trusting her legs to move. Her eyes stung, and for a moment she had the shameful feeling that she was going to start crying. She could feel the tears, so close to the surface, trying hard to escape.

She took a couple of deep breaths, making a fist and pressing it hard into her shoulder until she got herself under control. The urge to cry receded until it became a little more than a niggle at the back of her throat. The urge to punch something took its place.

“Captain Lance?”

The voice of the AI intruded into her thoughts.

“What?” She snapped harshly, misdirecting her frustrations towards the computer, but unable to stop herself.

“I thought perhaps now might be a good time to get that head injury seen to.”

“Urgh, just... not now Gideon, okay.” She practically growled before storming out of the office.

***  
***

Ava slumped down into her chair behind her desk and put her head in her hands.

She stayed that way for a good few minutes, until she felt able to face the world again.

The last few days had been miserable.

Her meeting with Director Bennett had gone about as well as could’ve been expected. It’s a miracle, really, that she hadn’t been fired on the spot. He told her he knew about all the rules she had broken, all the sneaking off on unauthorised missions. Helping the Legends. He suspected about Rip too, and though he said he couldn’t prove it, the guilty look on her face must have told him everything he needed to know.

Final warning, he had said. Last chance. And he would be watching her like a hawk.

So that was that. She'd been on edge since. She tried to convince herself that it would be okay, that the Legends didn’t really need her assistance. That Sara didn’t need her. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t need the Legends, or Sara. But they had felt like hollow words.

But she had to stay strong. She couldn’t be fired. It couldn’t happen to her again. And this job was all she had. She didn’t care how pathetic that made her.

And besides, her position here could prove vital. There may come a time when the bureau might need to actually get involved with this fight against Mallus. When their expertise would be called into action. And without Ava on the inside to convince them of that... Well, it could well be too late by then.

And then there was Sara, a traitorous voice in her head whispered. If she wasn’t with the bureau, she wouldn’t get to see Sara. Wouldn’t get to keep track of her. Make sure she wasn’t getting herself into too much trouble.

She had been trying her hardest to push her feelings for the timeship Captain to one side. They were complicating everything. Making it all that much harder.

So she'd tried to keep their contact short. Professional. And it was breaking her.

Especially now. With the hurt Ava could see in the woman’s face. The anger, and the bitterness in her voice. How she had cut Ava off.

It had nearly killed her to say no. Had taken all her will power not to relent.

She just needed to explain things to her. Talk to her properly about everything that was going on. With the Time Bureau. And well, with Sara herself... and, her feelings for Sara. After all, she had made a promise to the woman just the other day not to keep anything from her.

It was also bothering her that Sara had clearly lied about her head injury. And why she hadn’t had Gideon heal it for her in the first place. After all, it was obviously bad enough that the woman couldn’t hide her symptoms. And knowing Sara, she would have been trying!

She frowned, remembering what had transpired the last time she had such concerns about the captain. Nothing she would want repeating, especially not with the Legends current mission.

An incoming video communication from Director Bennett startled her out of her thoughts, before she could ponder the matter further.

“Sir.”

She answered after a brief moment to collect herself.

“Agent Sharpe. I need you in the briefing room on Level 30 in 5 minutes. I need your expertise on an anachronism I’m planning to send a team out to.”

“Of course sir, I’ll be there right away.”

He didn’t respond but terminated the transmission.

Shit. Just what she needed. But at least it was a distraction for a couple of hours.

She would just have to call Sara when she was done. And keep her own close eye on the progress of Sara’s anachronism.

With that in mind, she hastily exited her office, not wanting to be late and give Director Bennett any further ammunition against her.

 

 


	3. Blackbeard has been found...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anachronism hunt begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter as promised...
> 
> It's quite short again, and I hope you guys aren't feeling short changed by that. I wish now that I had waited to post any chapters in this episode until I had the whole thing pretty much written, so I could post them in quicker succession and then it might feel like we're getting somewhere. 
> 
> Anyway, what's done is done. I have managed to get the next chapter finished, so we're still on schedule for another update on Sunday or Monday.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it anyway.

“Hey Nate, how much did the pirate pay to get his ears pierced..? A buccaneer. Geddit? A _buck-an-ear_!”

Nate slapped Ray hard on the shoulder as the two men hooted with laughter.

“Wait, I got one, I got one... what's a pirates favourite letter?”

“I know this” Ray replied happily, “It’s the letter aRRRR!”

“Nope. It be the _C_ they can’t get enough of...”

They had set the Waverider down on an area of elevated land, about a mile away from the main port of Nassau, where Gideon informed them that the pirates had gathered. It was the highest point on the island, which, wasn’t really saying much considering it’s general low elevation on the whole. Still, it gave them the best vantage point they were going to get.

Amaya clearly still had her doubts, and she remained tight-lipped and sullen as they tromped through the heavy brush. Ray and Nate, however, had once again managed to work each other up into quite the state of excitement.

“Oi, Marx Brothers... I got one for you. Why did the two fake pirates get their asses kicked by their Captain?”

The two laughing friends looked at each other, smiles fading.

“Errrm” Ray stuttered.

“Because they made too much noise, and got everyone’s covers blown.”

“I mean, that’s not even a funny joke...” Nate pushed his luck, trailing off as Sara gave him a pointed stare, the smirk falling from his lips.

“Point taken.” Ray, ever the diplomat, chimed in.

Sara rolled her eyes but let the matter lie. At least some of them were having fun.

Although Sara had to admit that, from the moment they had left the ship, she had felt herself begin to unwind somewhat. She was still upset at Ava, more so than she realised she had the right to be. It was just that, she had been so sure that Ava would want to come, that she would defy her orders and break the rules, just as she had been doing so much of, of late.

And she had hoped that Ava wanted to see her just as much as she wanted to see Ava. And that’s what it really boiled down to after all. Whatever anachronism Nate had chosen, Sara had already subconsciously decided to ask Ava for help regardless. She had been looking forward to seeing the agent. Spending time together again. Well clearly the feeling wasn't mutual. And that hurt.

She was still spoiling for a good fight, but at least she could no longer feel the rage burning under her skin. And even her headache had eased into a dull throb.

Maybe it was the freshness of the air out here. It had been weeks since she had last breathed really clean air. Since Vinland and the Vikings. Otherwise she'd either been stuck on the Waverider or in Star City, neither of which could exactly be classified as _fresh_.

She took a deep breath and could taste the ocean salt in the air.

It was a short walk down the palm dotted hill until they came to the coast road. And seriously, the word road was being far too kind. It was a sandy track, packed down hard with use, that could just about fit two of them walking side by side. The path hugged the top of the beach as it circled the island. There was a short drop down to a strip of pristine white sand, onto which waves gently lapped up against the shore. The sound rhythmical and lulling.

Out in the turquoise waters of the bay, several small boats were anchored, bobbing with the tide. Fishing boats, Nate informed them. They belonged to the local inhabitants of the island. The ones that weren’t interested in making a living in a short life of raiding and pillaging, but who were content to keep to themselves, living a peaceful life off of the land and sea.

Of course with the coming of the pirates to Nassau that life had changed. They were allowed to go about their business as they pleased, but many pirates required tributes, in the form of the fishermen’s hard earned catch from the sea, and daughters and son's for their beds.

Zari looked scandalized.

“But why do they allow themselves to put up with treatment like that? They could leave, or fight back?” 

“Fight back. They'd all be slaughtered.” Mick pointed out, although the way he said the word ‘slaughtered’ with just a little too much gusto and a gleam in his eye, suggested that he didn’t mind the idea all too much.

“And they can’t leave, this is their home. There's nowhere else for them to go.” Amaya added as Nate nodded his agreement.

“Well it still sucks.”

“It does, but if we do our job, and sort this anachronism out, then these people can get back to their lives.” Sara tried to appease the woman, as well as getting them focused once more on the actual reason for their visit.

“Right. In the actual timeline, New Providence was almost completely pirate free by the end of 1718 after governor Woodes Rogers offered a pardon...”

Sara tuned out the rest of what Nate was saying, choosing instead to drop back and allow herself a moment to just enjoy the relative peace, both in the landscape around her, and in the jumble of her own mind.

“Everything okay boss?”

Mick had dropped back to join his Captain.

Sara looked over at the big criminal, and a feeling of fondness rose inside her at the man's own peculiar way of showing that he cared. She knew that if she said she was fine, he would take her at her word, and not push her further. The knowledge was somewhat comforting, and she felt safe and unburdened by his presence next to her. It struck her that she couldn’t say the same about most people these days. Amaya, and Ava. Or at least she _had_ felt that way about the Time Bureau agent. Maybe after today not so much.

But out here, with the smells and sounds of the ocean drifting in on the wind, and the sun warming her face, she found she didn’t want to think about such things.

“You know what, Mick? I think this is gonna be a good mission.”

***

The sun beat down on them as it reached the highest point of it’s journey across the almost cloudless azure sky. Sara felt beads of sweat begin to prickle against her forehead, and to trail a path down her back between her shoulder blades.

She looked about to see the others looking similarly sticky. Leo in particular did not look to be faring well. Clearly it wasn’t just their Earth's Leonard who felt more at home in colder climates.

It was comforting, in a way, to find that there was at least some similarity between the two. Sara had begun to doubt any existed. But she supposed that made it easier, stopped her wanting to get attached. After all, this wasn't the same man whom she had begun to view as a friend. As someone she could get close to. A man who could understand her better than most. But even if he was, he didn’t belong here. He had a life waiting back for him on his own earth. A lover. It was only a matter of time before he decided to go back home. And Sara couldn’t face that loss. It was easier to stay distant.

She looked towards the man walking just ahead of her. She wondered how Mick would fare when the inevitable happened. Despite their differences, it seemed the two were bonded, no matter which Earth each hailed from.

The thought struck her suddenly. What if Mick decided to go back with Leo. There was nothing stopping him from doing so. No great reason for him to want to stay. The outcast within a team of outcasts. And they all knew how much the man hated Nazi's. How much he always relished the chance to kill them.

She hadn’t realised she’d stopped in her tracks. Her muscles momentarily paralysed with the very real possibility that she could soon have to say goodbye to someone else she loved. She choked.

But no. Mick wouldn’t leave. Surely. He could’ve done so already, several times over, had he have wanted to.

With some difficulty Sara locked the thought away. She would just deal with that if and when it happened. Or probably not. That box in her mind was getting pretty crowded after all.

She hurried to catch up to the rest. Mick himself glancing enquiringly at her, but choosing not to make a comment.

She wiped the sweat from her brow and winced as she caught the wound from earlier. The one she still, stubbornly, had refused to let Gideon tend to, much to the Al’s annoyance. She hoped she hadn’t set it off bleeding again. Then again, it might just add to their cover story if she had.

Although actually, glancing around, she had to say that they all definitely looked the part. Ray, with his now favoured dreadlocks back in place. He had brought out that ridiculous eye patch, which she had allowed only on the basis that he wear a contact lens underneath to make it appear as though he actually needed the thing. Sara would _not_ have that be that reason that their cover gets blown. Gideon had also bestowed him with a nasty looking scar running from forehead to cheekbone for good measure. Him and Leo both donned the traditional long coats, made of fine colourful fabrics.

Nate chose to forgo the full coat, and instead wore a waistcoat and shirt that was open at the chest. He sported a decent beard, and unlike his ‘Hagrid-esq’ whiskers he'd worn as a Viking, this time it was well greased and tied with various brightly coloured bands. He had also opted for a gold tooth, reassuring the rest of them that they were commonplace for any pirate worth his, or her, salt.

Mick, well Mick looked like Mick, with just the one exception. Tight fitting three-quarter length trousers, which he had permitted with much reluctance, and forbid anyone from commenting on under the pain of death. Well, less politely put, but the sentiment was the same nonetheless.

But it was Amaya and Zari that caught Sara’s eye, however. Amaya wore her hair in ringlets which dropped down about her shoulders, gold hoops hanging from her ears. Zari had brightly coloured ribbons weaved through her own hair, and sported a striking magenta bandana. Like Sara, they wore heavy eye makeup and bold crimson lipstick, and were decorated with an array of gold necklaces, bangles and rings.

Both women looked absolutely stunning. To the point that Sara had actually considered telling them they had to re-dress. They were sure to draw far too much attention, and, though she knew that both women could more than handle themselves, they were going to be amongst hundreds of sex-starved unscrupulous and cut throat men, and she would really rather not take the risk.

But then, how could she ask that of the women, when she herself would never cede to such compromises? How could she possibly be such a hypocrite? In the end she had said nothing more than that they looked fantastic. They smiled and returned the compliment, while inside she berated herself for both being over protective, and yet taking risks with the women’s safety. She felt conflicted. When had she become the kind of person to think of telling a woman to change because of the actions of men? She wondered, not for the first time, what the hell was wrong with her at the moment.

Sara herself was wearing close fitting grey woollen breeches, with knee length leather boots. As the others, she also wore a traditional loose shirt, tucked into her pants, which was open scandalously low at the neckline. She also wore a figure hugging bodice over the top, similar to those worn by Zari and Amaya. However instead of choosing a brightly coloured piece like her companions, she chose one in a dark charcoal grey colour. Around her waist she had tied a striking scarlet sash, in which there were tucked a cutlass, daggers and pistols.

Like Ray and Leo, she was also wearing a long coat, of a similar colour to her bodice, made of an opulent velvet and patterned with an intricate design.

She had allowed her hair to fall into its natural waves. And to complete her look, she had tied a scarlet bandana round her head and over the top wore the three pointed hat of a captain.

At the time she had though she looked pretty good. Now she was regretting it. The whole bloody outfit was like one big sweat suit. She looked at Mick and his simple clothing enviously.

Contemplating the group and how good they looked caused a pang of regret in her chest. Ava would’ve looked so hot in the tight pants and bodice. In fact the whole outfit would’ve suited her down to the ground. Just thinking about it caused another wave of heat, one that had nothing to do with the burning sun overhead, to pool somewhere less than convenient for her current situation.

“What about agent hotcakes?” Mick gave her a strange look.

“Shit...” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Errm, nothing. Just that she’s missing out, is all”

“mmmm” was the big man’s only reply, even as he narrowed his eyes at her.

***

What had started out as the odd permanent dwelling had quickly become an array of ramshackle huts that looked like they had been cobbled together with great haste and liberally sprinkled between groves of palm trees.

Sara breathed an internal sigh of relief at the sight. She never would have said anything to her team mates, but her head was beginning to swim and the nausea was once again curling in the pit of her stomach. Now they had arrived she would at the least have something to focus on to take her mind off her physical ailments, and with a bit of luck they may even get some shade and a cool drink to quench their thirst.

There was a wide horseshoe shaped bay where a horde of formidable ships sat anchored, all displaying the black sails and flags denoting them as pirate vessels. Vessels that would strike fear into the hearts of many an unsuspecting sailor when they were first glimpsed through the spyglass. Even as the Legends took a moment to observe the scene ahead of them, they could witness rowboat loads of men being winched down from a new arrival, and several more halfway to shore. Even from their relatively distant vantage, they could hear the chorus of voices in some jovial sea shanty, as the oars flipped and flopped back through the foaming waters.

As they descended into the makeshift town, the peace and quiet gave way to a busy hubbub of noise and activity.

Shouts issued forth as men heaved a boat laden full of cargo boxes up onto the beach. From somewhere, a lively ditty was being played, and raucous laughter seemed to fill the air.

They made their way down the dusty track, between palm trees and shrubs, avoiding the many bodies propped against walls or trees, or just flat out lying on the ground, either still sleeping off the previous nights revelries, or already having over-indulged that morning.

From out of the shadow of a beat-up shack ahead of them, four men came tumbling, tripping up over each other. All were dressed in a motley collection of rags, patched in various colours. They could see one of the men had a wooden peg leg, and another, instead of a hand, had a rusty brass knob, clearly not being successful enough in his pirating to acquire himself a hook.

The quartet were so inebriated that it was only after several moments of watching that Sara realised they were embroiled in some kind of brawl. One man swung his fist haphazardly, but lost his balance and instead tripped over the wooden leg of the first man, to land sprawling heavily in the dust. Another burst out laughing at the sight, only to have the brass knob connect with his jaw, teeth and bloody spittle flying from his mouth, before he ended up laying out cold on top of the already downed man.

It was when peg leg pulled a pistol from out of his draws that Sara decided they needed to make a hasty exit. He leered at her with a mouthful of rotting blackened teeth as she passed him by, his grotesque face distorted and out of place as it seemed to almost hover in the air in front of her. She swiped the sweat from out of her eyes, before a strong hand on her arm pulled her onwards. She hadn’t even realized that she had stopped walking. She could still hear the manic cackles and the cracks of wayward shots being fired long after they had left the scene behind them.

It became clear to Sara, as they made their way deeper into town, that something was different this far in. There was an air of excitement or anticipation. And though there seemed to be an equal number of mindless bodies littering the streets, there were also clearly those pirates who had more wits about them, dressed in varying degrees of finery. These men, and the odd woman, Sara noted with casual interest, were huddled in groups of two's or three’s. Some looking furtively about, others bold and boasting about some latest raid or acquisition of vessels or crew. She caught the words 'pirate kingdom' and 'weapons' uttered more than once.

They were beginning to attract the odd glance here and there, a sideways look or suspicious stare.

“Okay guys, looks like we're at the main area.” Sara said quietly, discreetly tapping her com. “Everyone be on the lookout for Blackbeard, or any weapons that look too advanced for the time... We all know our cover story, but still, _try_ to avoid drawing too much attention. And remember, no powers.”

They drew close to a tavern at the top of the main beach. It looked to be a more permanent structure than most of the other dwellings they had seen, although even this building looked to have been extended in a slapdash sort of manner. It was busy; men and women in varying states of intoxication overflowing from it’s doors. Many were lounging on the beach, or under the shade of a palm tree, bottle of something strong in hand.

It was the men dotted at different points around the outside of the bar that caught Sara’s attention, however. Men that were alert, observing the goings on with a watchful eye. There were another two high above their heads in a crows nest emanating from the roof of the tavern. An interesting but shrewd addition to the architecture, allowing them to keep a close eye out for any unwanted visitors to their island refuge.

She wondered if her little group had already been made. If those inside were well aware of their presence on the island. If they were about to walk into a trap.

The thing that really sent a cold shiver running down her spine, however, was the machine gun that each man had slung casually across his chest.

***

A cloud of cigarette smoke and stench of ripe unwashed bodies hit Sara as she pushed open the door to the tavern and stepped inside, the taste of it catching in her throat, and she almost couldn’t stop the grimace from showing on her face. She was sure the others would not have been so successful, had they even tried at all.

After a moment to adjust, she looked about the room. Busy was an understatement. Everywhere she looked men jostled for position at a bar or around a cards table, stumbling over one another to try and get in on the action. There must have been at least a dozen such card games, and even as she watched, one man let out a tremendous roar and upended the entire table, coins and cards and bottles clattering to the floor. The rest of the bar quieted, before a score of pistols were pointed his way and he reluctantly sat back down, and everybody got back to their own business.

Sara kept a hand ready by her dagger. Just in case.

A hand at her arm had her turning questioning eyes to Nate.

“Ten ‘o’ clock. I'm pretty sure that’s our man.” He said in a whisper through his teeth.

“ _Pretty_ sure, pretty?” Mick growled under his breath, and Nate swallowed hard.

“Well in my defence, there aren’t exactly any photos of him for me to compare potential suspects against.” Nate stage whispered back.

“Alright boys, calm down.” Sara instructed, smoothly insinuating herself into the bar environment, before they started drawing too much attention to themselves by loitering at the door.

“Mick, why don’t you go get us some drinks?” She asked the antsy criminal before he could cause too much trouble.

“The rest of you spread out, let’s make sure this is our guy.” She directed at Ray, Zari and Nate; having asked Leo and Amaya to keep looking round the village, to get the lay of the land. And just in case they were walking into a trap... It could be handy to have backup waiting outside.

She took up her own position casually leaning near one of the card tables, close enough that the man who might be Blackbeard was in her line of sight, but so that she might look like she was observing the game at hand, and not spying on the notorious captain. She was also afforded a good view of the rest of the bar. Just so she wouldn’t be caught unawares. Just in case.

When she was sure she blended in with the rest of the crowd, slowly, she looked up.

And was met by the dark penetrating gaze of none other than Blackbeard himself, staring right at her, pinning her in place...

 

 

 


	4. Haunting in this hull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so here is chapter 4, still on schedule :) 
> 
> So we finally get to meet Blackbeard in this one. I've tried to give him a good description, but if it helps as a visual, I pretty much imagined him as Jason Momoa (Aka Khal Drogo, aka aquaman)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapter anyway :) Thanks for all the comments that I've had on the previous chapters, you guys are awesome and make me just wanna keep on writing this!!

The wooden planks of the ship creaked and groaned as the mighty vessel sped forwards, sails billowing, ploughing it’s way through the rolling foam tipped waves.

Sara stood by the bow, eyes closed and gripping the rail as tightly as she dared without giving herself away. Ignoring the swollen and painful knuckles of her right hand. She could feel the salt spray as it misted up about her. She could taste it on her lips and tongue. Could sense the way it gathered about her hair, turning her locks wavy.

Shit. She _really_ hated boats.

In her ear she could hear Ray excitedly chatting away, something about how awesome it was to be going on a real life treasure hunt. Well that’s all well and good for the man who was currently shrunk down to the size of a pin head and hiding in her coat pocket. For the man who was able to fly away at a moments notice should the ship decide to do something stupid, like sink, for example.

She took a deep, calming breath before opening her eyes. Having them shut really wasn’t helping the ever present nausea any. And it really would blow her cover if she were to start getting apparently sea sick!

Everywhere about her was a vast expanse of turquoise sea, shifting between every colour of blue and green. Sunlight glinted off the peaks of the waves, and reflected in the sapphire depths. Shoals of fish swam laps about them, and in the distance she could glimpse the tell-tale spray of water from a great beast of the ocean; a whale.

It was as though everything was excited to be here. Everything but her.

How did she manage to get herself into such predicaments? And it had all seemed to be going so well too...

_‘Oh crap’ Sara internally swore, as she looked up to see the eyes of the pirate already on her. Eyes that were as dark as obsidian; brooding and stormy, eyes that seemed to penetrate her with ease. Eyes befitting a feared pirate of legend._

_Her training took over and she kept her cool. Locking gazes for a few moments, pursing her lips as if contemplating something, before purposefully backing down from the stare, looking away, as though she were bored or disinterested by their apparent game._

_She could still feel him watching her, even after she pretended to take great interest in whatever contest it was the rowdy group of men were engaged in next to her._

_Sara felt a presence close by and looked up to see Mick passing across a tankard of frothy amber liquid._

_“Cheers.” She said with a smile on her face, clinking her drink to his and taking a long swig. Leaning back and trying to look casual._ _It tasted nowhere near as bad as she expected. But then, if there was one thing pirates got right, it seemed, it was their drinking._

_She chanced another glance in the direction of the large bearded pirate, and was surprised to find an empty chair where he had previously been sat holding court with the surrounding tables._

_A loud cheer erupted from the participants of the card game next to them and one man pushed himself to his feet, swaying backwards and forwards where he stood. Sara couldn’t tell if he had just won, or was in a blinding rage having just lost everything. He slurred something unintelligible then brought a bottle to his lips once, spilling half the contents down his already stained shirt, and then he passed out cold, landing with a heavy thud in the centre of the table._

_Another cheer rang out amidst the whoops and roars of laughter, and then there were several large men jostling into her as they heaved the drunk man out of the way of the table and, Sara assumed, the tavern. Another insensible body to litter the streets of the town. Instantly another wretched chap bent on gambling away his meagre possessions filled the empty place at the table._

_“I apologise, my Lady, for these ill-mannered fools.”_

_Came a deep melodious voice, which seemed to reverberate right through her. She almost started at the unexpected proximity. She looked up to find the man with the dark eyes and prominent black beard just in front of her._

_“I trust they did not harm you at all?” He continued, pulling on a fine rolled cigarette as he spoke. “I find these Yanks do not know how to handle their ale.”_

_“I think you'll find this Yank can handle her ale just fine, Mr..?” Sara probed, ignoring his initial comment about getting hurt. She would get further winning his respect than his chivalry._

_He laughed, clearly amused at her response, and his face seemed to light up with the action._

_“Edward Teach at your service” He gave a humourful half bow, and raised his hat an inch off his head. “But people round here call me Captain Blackbeard.”_

_He flashed her another smile as he introduced himself. Sara was surprised at how well spoken the man was. Not at all what she had expected a notorious pirate captain to be. He had an odd sort of accent. Distinctly British, but sort of freer or looser, in a way. As though he had picked up many dialects along his journeys, but couldn’t quite settle on which one to use._

_He was an imposing giant of a man, with great wide shoulders. His captain’s coat barely fitting; stretching at the seams. He wore a loose shirt, open low down his chest, more than a hint of impressive muscles visible underneath. The sash tied around the sizable girth of his waist housed an array of cutlasses and pistols, but he didn’t appear to be carrying any of the advanced weapons Nate had told them about._

_It was his face, though, that caught Sara. Certainly as fearsome as the accounts had made him out to be, if not even more so. He had a great mane of wild black hair, tied loosely up in a low pony tail underneath his captain’s hat. His stormy eyes were accentuated by the heavy black eyeliner that seemed to be so favoured by pirates. There was an old scar running through one of his eyebrows, and another smaller one just underneath the same eye._

_But it was no surprise that it was his beard that was his namesake. It was full and long, with a few braids of different colours running through it. On another man it would have looked overwhelming, dwarfing the rest of his features. But on the larger than life Edward Teach, Sara couldn’t imagine anything else._

_He took a last drag on his cigarette, then flicked it to the ground, smoothly stepping on it and grinding it into the floor with the heel of a heavy leather boot._

_“I make it my business to introduce myself to newcomers to the island. And I don’t believe I have had the pleasure as of yet, Miss..?”_

A cry from above sliced through Sara’s thoughts, the men in the crows nest apparently having sighted land.

“Ray? Time to get into position.” She breathed into her com under the guise of taking her hat off and mopping her brow.

“Aye Aye Captain. See you on the other side.”

She felt a slight tickle at her waist as the miniature man flew out of the pocket he had been using to hide in. Despite herself, the knowledge that he was no longer with her made her feel very alone.

They had been forced to leave the rest of the team behind. Or at least, she was supposed to have left everyone behind, but still, Ray was along for the ride. Initially she had said no to his plan of accompanying her. It was too dangerous, what with not knowing when he might suddenly become normal sized again. But of course Ray being Ray, or any Legend being any Legend, he didn’t take no for an answer. He had done the calculations, he said, for how long it would take for the anachronism to solidify. And he was ‘ _fairly_ ’ sure that it should be at least a few more days. The closer they came to fixing it, the longer they would have until it cemented. Which unfortunately also meant that if they screwed it up, then Ray could suddenly find himself suitless.

She didn’t like it. And yet he had looked at her with his ever optimistic smile and large sincere eyes, and she had relented. She was being selfish, she knew she was. But the idea of having someone else with her had felt comforting. Safe. And she did have rather a bad track record when it came to boats. Still, her decision was weighing on her conscience.

She rubbed idly at the palm of her right hand, aching from the pressure of gripping the rail. She looked at the two pink raised lines running from thumb to middle finger. She traced a finger across one and then the other, slowly, almost reverently. For a moment a small smile touched her lips. Remembering the care the woman who had stitched her up had taken. How they had been sat so close to each other. How Ava had held her hand so gently. The smile dropped from her face and her throat tightened. She really wished Ava were here now. And she hated herself just a little bit for it. For needing the woman. For her weakness. For wanting her when the other woman so clearly did not feel the same.

“Now there’s a look that I have seen many a time, on the face of many a wretched man before he sells his soul to the devil, or loses himself to the sweet mercy of firewater or the poppy.”

Sara started, snapping her hand closed. She was clearly off her game if this beast of a man was able to sneak up on her like that.

“There is only one thing I know that puts a look like that onto someone’s face...”

She turned to face the pirate fully, her back to the railing and arms across her chest, pursing her lips.

“Oh yeah... And what look would that be?”

“The look of love.” Blackbeard stated plainly, although as always there seemed to be a hint of humour to his voice and mischief on his face.

“Huh.” She said, somewhat taken aback by the man’s forthrightness.

“Forgive the intrusion, it is not my place to pry.” He backtracked, perhaps seeing something on her face that told him he should.

“No, its...” She took a breath, clasped her hands together in front of her. “It’s okay. There is... _was_ someone. I thought, maybe, we could’ve had something...” She didn’t know what compelled her to answer him. Maybe because it was safe, here with this man out of time. Maybe because she couldn’t keep it in any longer. “...Something special, you know? But, I’m here, and they’re not, so...” She swallowed and looked away.

“Then he is a fool.” His voice was solemn, without any of the teasing he had previously displayed.

Sara looked back at him, considering.

“She.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, but he gave no indication that he found the idea anything other than interesting, and the amused look was back on his face.

“So you prefer to lay with other women?” He questioned.

“Perhaps. Although I _prefer_ to lay with whoever I choose.”

“Indeed.” He offered, with the beginning of a grin. “Then I take it back. She is a fool... But, I am afraid it is time for you to retire below deck.”

He reached out and put his hand on her bicep in a gesture that struck her as being over familiar. His hand dwarfed her arm; had he the desire to, Sara was certain he could snap her bone with a minimal amount of effort. He began leading her away towards the hatch down to the crew quarters at the stern of the ship.

“Maybe, once you pledge your allegiance to me, I will permit you to know the location of our treasure island, Captain Sparrow...”

She only just managed to hide the grimace that tried to make its way onto her face at the ill-advised name she’d had the misfortune to come up with when caught off guard the previous afternoon.

_“It’s Captain, actually... Captain Sparrow. Jac Sparrow.”_

_Blackbeard looked her up and down with a quizzical stare._

_“Short for Jacqueline, or Jackie... But, in my line of work, I find that going by Jac, is more useful.” She raised an eyebrow at him, as though challenging him to call her out or tell her otherwise._

_To her surprise, he seemed to take that in his stride. Who would have though it? An enlightened pirate._

_“Well, Captain Jac Sparrow, welcome to my island.”_

_His tone was pleasant, as it had been throughout their exchange, but there was no mistaking his underlying meaning. ‘His island.’ His rule. He was in charge. You’re welcome here, but only as long as I say so._

_“And who is your silent companion?” He moved the subject on, evidently content that his message had been received._

_“This is Mr Rory... Mick, say hello to our new friend, Captain Blackbeard.”_

_“Hmmmm.” Mick grunted in his usual fashion as he appraised the man, sizing him up. “Call me ‘Hook’.”_

_“An interesting name for a man who appears to have both his hands” Blackbeard commented._

_“Maybe so. But Mick here has a mean right hook that you don’t wanna be on the receiving end of. Believe me.” Sara replied, wincing. The memory of his ham fisted punch hitting her square in the jaw still all too vivid, even a couple of years on._

_The pirate laughed, that same deep bellowing laugh as before._

_“You would dare to strike your Captain? And yet you still retain the hand?”_

_“We've had our disagreements, but we’re good. And I wasn’t his captain at the time.” She clapped him hard on the shoulder, a wave of his beer sloshing over the side of his tankard at the sudden movement. He sent her a glare in return._

_“And the lady gives as good as she gets.”_

_This time when the notorious pirate burst into laughter, Sara joined in. She was almost surprised to find that it was genuine._

_“I can well imagine she does.” He nodded his head at her._

_“Thanks, Mick”_

_“Come. Join me at my table.” He gestured expansively over at the rather packed looking corner of the inn. “Let me share with you my rum, and hear just what it is that brings you to New Providence...”_

***

It turns out the room Blackbeard put her in is none other than the Captains Quarters. It’s rather opulent. Extravagant in the way one would expect of a successful pirate. Maps and charts line the walls. A large sextant on the desk. An eclectic array of paraphernalia, successfully reapropriated from their former owners, the most lavish of which was a large ivory skull with rubies sitting inside the eye sockets.

It was small though. Smaller than she expected, and with the stifling heat and close air, she began to feel a sense of claustrophobia setting in. The undulations of the ship from side to side were more pronounced below deck. The creaking louder.

She could picture it. The ship getting closer to the land. Hidden reefs suddenly spotted. A full spin of the wheel as the Captain desperately tries to steer them clear. And then the sickening crunch as they run aground, wood splintering as the ship begins to tear apart, violently lurching to one side. Falling through. Water everywhere, pulling her under, filling her lungs.

She couldn’t breathe. The air was as viscous as water. Every breath requiring an increasing amount of energy just to draw enough oxygen into her lungs. The room seemed to swim about her as her vision blurred. It wasn’t the dying, that didn’t bother her anywhere near as much as it should. It was the helplessness.

“ _Fuck_ ” She managed to force out.

It wasn’t real. She was safe.

“ _Get it-The Fuck-together_ ” She dug her nails into her palm painfully hard, desperately trying to ground herself, to keep the horrors of the past at bay.

The ship wasn't tearing itself in two. It wasn’t the ‘Gambit’. And it wasn’t the ‘Amazo’.

“ _You’re good. Everything’s good. You got this_ ”

She was shaking. On her knees next to the desk, gripping the edge as though it could stop her from falling. Her head cleared marginally. Not enough.

“ _You got this_ ”

She closed her eyes and leant her head against the cool mahogany of the desk. When she opened them a moment later, Laurel was sat in the chair only a few feet away, looking at her. Her eyes were soft and filled with some kind of emotion Sara wasn’t able to decipher.

She was as clear as everything else in the room. Maybe clearer. She seemed to draw the light, and Sara found she couldn’t focus on anything else, not that she would even want to. She looked exactly as she had before, the previous time, when she’d had the opportunity to change her fate. To save her...

Sara gasped. A low, almost choking sound.

“ _Laurel??!_ ”

“ _Sara_...” The woman breathed softly. “ _Shhh_ ,” she soothed, leaning down to Sara, gently wiping the tears from her face that Sara hadn’t realised had started to fall.

Sara leant into the touch, desperate for the contact.

“ _It’s okay. You’ve been so brave, so strong. You always did have enough strength for both of us Sara_ ” Laurel smiled.

“I’m not strong, _Laurel_... I, I messed _everything_ up.” At last she was able to take a deep, albeit shaky, breath. “ _I don’t know how much longer I can keep going_ ” She whispered, looking at the floor. Admitting to the ghost of her sister what she hadn’t previously dared to think.

“ _You can, you will. You’re stronger than you know, Sara. You’re doing such an amazing job. But you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t always have to be strong on your own_.”

Sara looked up, meeting her sisters eyes, with a question in her own.

“ _You just need to let them in, let her in_.” Laurel continued, taking Sara’s face gently between her hands and placing a kiss on her forehead.

The light of her sister grew brighter for a second, as she let Sara go. Then the planes of her face became less defined. Translucent.

“NO... _please_ , Laurel. Don’t go. I miss you _so_ _much_ ” Sara reached out and grabbed her hand, clinging on desperately. Refusing to let her leave.

“ _Goodbye Sara_.” She squeezed her sisters hand one last time before letting go. “ _Remember, I will always be with you_.” Her voice faded away, leaving behind nothing but the sound of Sara's coarse breathing in the silence of the cabin.

For a moment Sara was completely still. Eyes screwed shut, trying to recall the image of her sister, beautiful and intelligent and smiling.

Her breathing returned to normal, and she stood up. As much as the ache in her chest was almost too much to bear, she felt as though she had been fortified by her sisters words, and from somewhere she found a well of inner strength.

She could do this.

She was doing this. Even now she was being taken to the weapons. Ray was gonna deal with them. They would get Blackbeard back to where he was supposed to be. Job done. Anachronism fixed. Take that, Time Bureau.

And when Darhk showed up they were gonna kick his butt. And _nothing_ was gonna go wrong....

 


	5. Another name for pirate treasure (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get going as Sara (and Ray) set off with the pirates on their treasure hunt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, as always, thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and who has taken the time to write a comment on my work. You guys really are Legends ;)
> 
> So this chapter begins what I would call the adventure section, the main plot line of the episode. 
> 
> I actually had this chapter and the next written (or just about written) as one long chapter, but at 12000 words and counting I thought that was a bit much - even for me. So it had to be split.
> 
> One of the consequences of that, unfortunately, is that Ava's return to the episode is a little delayed. I'm sorry that we really haven't seen her much this time around. I promise I (And Sara) have not forgotten about her, she just needs to let the Legends deal with this for the time being. She will be making a reappearance in a few chapters time though, and she will be, in the words of Take That - 'Back for Good'.
> 
> I hope that the plot can keep you interested enough in the meantime.
> 
> On that note, chapter 5 part 1...

They dropped anchor in a rocky inlet, sheltered, and hidden from the strait they had sailed down to get there. Unlike New Providence, this island seemed to be guarded by steep cliffs, and as the row boat steadily made it’s way towards the shore, it appeared to Sara that they were approaching an impenetrable fortress.

The sun was strong overhead, beating down on them from another cloudless sky. Her clothes felt uncomfortably damp and her mouth dry and parched. A flask which had been doing the rounds made it into her hands and she took a long welcome swig. And immediately regretted it. It wasn’t water, but the same overproof rum they had been obliged to consume the previous afternoon at the Captains table. The ethanolic liquid burnt her mouth and throat as she struggled to swallow it down, and to keep in the hiss that tried to escape her teeth. _Pirates_.

There was an undercurrent of excitement amongst Blackbeard's crew. It seemed that for some of them, this was also their first time visiting the island treasure trove. Blackbeard himself sat at the helm of the boat, his shoulders straight, and hair blowing back with the breeze as he held the telescope to his eye, scouting their best approach for landfall. Outwardly he seemed the same calm and unflappable man she had witnessed so far. But then he turned to her, and there was a glint in his dark eyes and a wild grin on his face that told her that he wasn't quite as immune to the exhilaration of the quest as he wanted people to believe.

It had taken very little time for Sara to work out exactly why Blackbeard’s friends had come to him to lead their pirate kingdom. As they had sat talking with him and his associates less than a full day ago, she noticed how he was able to draw people to him. To command the attention of the room without raising his voice. There was a magnetism to him, she thought. A natural born leader.

But he was clearly an intelligent man as well. The words he spoke were well thought out. His plans to terrorise the seas, to amass a fleet big enough to enable the blockade of numerous ports across Florida and South Carolina. To effectively hold the King of England to ransom by grounding his ships.

Even she, as she had sat there with Mick, and eventually the others, had found herself getting swept up in his plans. Even knowing that it was all going to end, and that she would be the one to stop it; even with that knowledge, she still couldn’t help but add her voice to the rest in salute. Couldn’t help the prickle of excitement as he talked of battles to come and to be won. Of riches to be amassed. She knew she wasn't the only one. At her side, Micks eyes lit up to the point they were practically glowing.

***

On the crest of a wave, the small vessel drifted in to the tranquil shallows of the sheltered inlet.

The men sat around her began hauling themselves out, landing with heavy splashes in the knee high water. One of the men in particular caught her eye. He seemed young, dark skinned and of a slight build. Her presence appeared to be of some interest to him, and she couldn’t determine if his will towards her seemed ill. He wore a large hat down low over his forehead, and a plain bandana pulled up to his nose, so that only his eyes and a thin strip of skin were visible to her.

He hopped with grace over the side and for a moment their eyes met, his narrowed in apparent distaste, though what she had done to offend him she couldn’t work out, no other men of Blackbeard's crew showed any sign of having a problem with her. But even as the man pulled his eyes away, Sara was struck by the overwhelming familiarity she felt on looking into them.

She shook her head minutely and put the thought away. Filing it for later. She was about to follow suit and herself clamber over the side, after all, she needed to be seen to be pulling her weight on this expedition; when it caught her attention that the Captain had still not disembarked. He was sat down, straining as he tried to wrench his impressive leather boots from his feet.

Of course. It wouldn’t do for a captain to spoil his finery by getting it salt stained and waterlogged. Not to mention that they would likely be tromping about in them for the rest of the day, water sloshing around at their feet. They would be lucky to avoid a case of trench foot.

Sara followed his lead, hoping it hadn't been obvious that she'd only just cottoned on. Although Blackbeard appeared to be having too many troubles of his own to be paying much attention to her, and when he did meet her eye, it was with a sheepish, helpless look. She raised a knowing eyebrow at him, and tried not to look too amused.

“Looks like you’re too big for your boots” She couldn't refrain from teasing, before she too vaulted over the edge, not permitting the giant pirate the chance to respond.

The cool water was pleasant; soothing to her overheated skin. Small pebbles and shells dug uncomfortably into the soles of her feet and between her toes, but even so, a powerful feeling of relief washed over her at the sensation of having firm land once again underfoot.

Between them they heaved the boat a fair way up the bank of shale and small pebbles that passed for the beach. A second dinghy, with fewer men but housing several large chests, was pulled up alongside them.

She felt a flutter at her side as Ray dropped unseen back into her pocket. He greeted her cheerily but she was still within the throng of men and didn’t dare chance responding. She very gently tapped her pocket and hoped he understood the gesture.

Blackbeard took his precious map out of the breast of his coat and unrolled it. Already it looked stained and dog-eared. Torn in a couple of places. Sara wondered if he ever let the thing off his person.

He studied it intently for a few moments, then peered around at the solid wall of cliffs ahead of them. He appeared to use his fingers as pointers, sighting down the end, calculating a point then advancing a few paces and stopping to do the same again. Sara could only guess that there was some method to his apparent madness.

Alongside Blackbeard, only Charles Vane, Calico Jack and a handful of their loyal crewmen knew the location of this island, and the treasure it sheltered. If the bragging and bolstering were to be believed, few Captain's had the skill and the courage to navigate the treacherous waters around the island to even attempt the landing.

However Blackbeard was accepting oaths of allegiance, and in return arming faithful Captains and their crews. Loyalty was ensured by strictly controlling the amount of ammo each one had access to. Once the ammo ran out, it was up to Blackbeard and his henchmen to decide whether they were to receive more.

Sara had to admire the logic behind the ploy. And yet she wondered at how the man could be so apparently at ease. Why he wasn’t a paranoid wreck sat in the corner with a pistol in each hand and one eye open whilst he slept. The treasure map he possessed was as a target pinned to his back... Surely he must suspect those around him of treason; betrayal by his friends and mutiny by his crew.

It had surprised Sara that she had been allowed to accompany them. Invited to. Although Blackbeard had been sure to take precautions. Hence why she was the only one of her team officially on this outing. And why she had been relegated to that god-forsaken cabin below deck once they had got close to the destination.

Of course the pirate had no idea that there was a pint-sized stow-away on board. Or that they were currently been tracked by a very sophisticated GPS system. And an even more sophisticated AI.

An AI who was clearly in a mood with her, judging by their previous nights interactions.

 

_The sun had set some time before the team finally made it back to the safety of their ship. Sat in the noisy, smelly, over-packed pirate watering hole, Sara had managed to completely lose track of time._

_Her head was buzzing and she felt wonderfully numb. She had tried to pace herself, she really had. But her alcohol tolerance had been somewhat questionable of late, and the pirate’s rum was strong. And they had appearances to keep up. That was very important. And so what if she happened to be enjoying herself. Unlike the Time Bureau, the Legends could save time but still knew how to have fun doing it. And anyway, she'd witnessed first hand Ava killing it in a competition to down a horn of mead last time out. She grinned at the thought. And at the word ‘horn’. And at Ava and horn being in the same sentence._

_But anyway, that was all beside the point, because it had paid off. Blackbeard bought their story of becoming shipwrecked off the coast and looking to acquire a new ship. He seemed to trust them. He wanted their allegiance. Had told them all about his plans. And, he had asked her to come along when he made a trip out to the island tomorrow. It was better than they could have hoped for._

_She wasn’t stupid, she knew it was irresponsible. Had seen the thinly veiled look of disgust in Leo's eyes. She knew that she was confirming every theory Ava had ever had about her and her team. And somehow, she really couldn’t bring herself to care._

_She stretched out on her bed, naked but for a pair of panties and her favourite Verdant t-shirt. Enjoying the feeling of cool air on her skin and being free of her confining clothing._

_“I see you have managed to return alive then Captain.”_

_Sara let out a groan as her peaceful bliss was shattered by the annoyed sounding voice coming from her ceiling._

_She spread her arms out wide across the bed. Trying to cling on to the last vestiges of the peace she could feel slipping away._

_“Alive and well, Gideon.”_

_The AI emitted a disbelieving huff at the word ‘well’._

_Sara opened her eyes just so she could have the satisfaction of Gideon seeing her rolling them._

_“As enjoyable as it always is listening to your limitless disapproval, Gideon, did you actually want something? Other than to kill my buzz, that is.”_

_“Evidently you have no regard whatsoever for any of my advice or opinions. So no, I have nothing left to say, Captain Lance.”_

_Sara frowned. It was very unlike Gideon to be so defeatist. She sat up._

_“What? You're not even gonna tell me off for drinking on the job?”_

_“Would there be any point?”_

_“Well... no.”_

_“Then I won’t waste my breath.”_

_Even in her current state, Sara felt a sense of disquiet at the unusual behaviour of her AI. Deep inside, she felt an acute loss that Gideon had apparently given up on her._

_“Well clearly you had something you wanted to say.” She raised her voice, feeling herself slipping back towards her go-to state of anger. She stood up and started pacing across the floor. “So just go ahead and say it...”_

_There was no response._

_“Well you know what, maybe I’m getting sick of hearing that I'm not good enough, Gideon. I’m sorry that I’m not your precious Rip. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me, a screw-up and a killer. But you know what? At least I get the job done... Gideon?”_

_Her only reply was the silence of her empty room._

_“Gideon..?” She repeated, louder, aggressive. But still, the computer remained silent. She was once again hit with the overwhelming urge to cry. There was a terrible pressure swelling inside her that needed to get out._

_The wall shook with the force of the punch she released into it, the dull thud a less than satisfying accompaniment. Two, three, four times the sound echoed out, before her energy abruptly drained, before she registered the welcome pain of her smashed knuckles. Before she sank to the floor with her head resting on her knees._

_In the depths of her mind she imagined she could hear the chilling laughter, over and over and over again._

_Down the hallway, in the darkened room of the Captain's office, a small flashing red light of an unseen video message went ignored._

 

She rubbed a hand across tired eyes, letting an inaudible sigh pass her lips. In the cold light of day, and now she really thought about it; she had been allowing herself to take her frustrations and anger out on Gideon too much of late. It wasn’t intentional. In fact she really had only just become aware she was doing it. It’s just that, with everyone else, when her anger began bubbling over and she felt ready to snap, she just removed herself from the situation. But with Gideon, short of throwing herself out of the airlock of the Waverider, there really was no escape.

It wasn’t a good enough excuse. There was no excuse for her behaviour at all, if she was honest. Gideon was only trying to be helpful; in her own way showing that she cared about Sara’s well-being. And time and again Sara had thrown it back in her face. Well no wonder she had stopped trying.

She would try and fix it. Apologise. A lot. Maybe buy an electronic equivalent of a bunch of flowers. Whatever that might be. She made a mental note to ask Ray later.

She looked down at her hand. The one she had been trying to ignore the implications of all morning. She really needed to get a handle on this anger. It was bad enough to lose control when it was some jerk beating on his girl in a bar, but it was another thing entirely when that anger was directed at her friends and family, the people she loves, for no reason whatsoever.

But for now, she had her mission to stay focused on. A cover to keep up. And even though it meant facing up to her fear of boats, she had never been more glad to get off the Waverider and have some time to herself.

***

As the small party approached the cliff, Sara was still unable to detect any opening that might be their passage through.

She had a sudden hysterical thought, that they were going to have to do a platform 9 and ¾ style run through the rock wall. Although, let’s face it, that would count as one of the least strange things she'd witnessed.

She made to go and assist with carrying one of the heavy looking chests; she was more than capable after all. But when she went to grasp the wrought iron handle, a rough hand on her arm forestalled her at the last moment.

It was her pirate from earlier. Sara marvelled at the small and dainty limb, even as the man looked at her with cold dark eyes and roughly shook his head, then moved in front of her to take her place, effectively blocking her.

She watched, vaguely annoyed, as the quartet effortlessly lifted the trunk and began walking up to the wall, and, to her shock, disappeared behind it. As she stood there, eyes gaping, she observed the others all walk forward and do the same.

Shit. Maybe there was something to her Harry Potter theory after all.

“ _Whoa_ ” she heard Ray breathe from her pocket.

A cloud passed in front of the sun, suddenly shrouding the beach in shadow. She heard laughter close by and spun on the spot. It wasn’t the cold sinister sound from her nightmares, however, but the rich, warm amused laugh of Blackbeard.

“You wear the same look on your face as all men, when they are first greeted with the spectacle. But do not fear, there is no magic at play here. Only trickery... Come.” He commanded.

She wanted to point out that she didn’t fear magic, as she allowed herself to be lead forward. But then pirates had a notorious aversion to the mystical and supernatural, and so she thought better of it and permitted the hit to her pride.

And true to the Captain’s word, at the last minute, when she stood in a certain spot, the light shifted, and what had previously been just another fault running down the ancient barrier, at once opened up to become a narrow cleft that extended several feet backwards.

“Impressive.” She acknowledged to the bearded man. He looked pleased with the complement, as if he himself had designed the illusion.

Ahead of them, a few of the crew had lighted lanterns that must have been stashed within the crevice.

The opening narrowed further at its far end, and turned a corner to become a tight constricting passage through the rock. Underfoot the loose stone was slick, slippery with moisture. Sara wondered if it were condensation from the walls surrounding them, or if it was, perhaps, the remnants of the high tide.

The cliffs loomed interminably over her head so that they were almost meeting at the top, blocking the majority of the light. The flickering lamps creating strange shadows which danced around them in a grotesque parody of reality.

It was unnaturally quiet. Only the constant crunching of their footsteps sounded out as they made their steady way along. Even the pirates, normally so boisterous, seemed to be respectful of the silence, and a strange hush had descended over them. Even _Ray_ who had managed to keep up an almost continuous flow of chatter and commentary in her ear since they had set out, was suddenly, noticeably silent.

Sara’s assassin senses started tingling. This was the ideal place for an ambush. No space to fight. Too narrow even to turn and run. It would be too easy to lie in wait at one end, to pick them off one by one. She could think of at least a dozen ways she could kill them all without even breaking a sweat. She ignored the sense of foreboding, pushing it down. Blackbeard had taken precautions, left men looking out on the ship and the beach. There was no reason to suspect anything untoward would happen.

They began to ascend. Gentle at first, but after a while the way became steep, and several times she had to brace herself against the tight rock walls next to her to stop from slipping. She heard a crash from somewhere up front. Voices raised in warning at the sounds of a large object scraping against the floor as one of the chests started to slide, before several hands managed to hold it in place, and Sara released the breath she had unconsciously been holding. A few more curses and recriminations were uttered before the party once more descended into quiet and continued on its way.

After a while she lost track of how long they had been walking through the tomb of rock. She could feel her thighs begin to tighten with the exertion, and the ever present throbbing in her head increased with the close musty air.

It was almost suddenly that they reached the end. An apparent rock fall, a good twenty feet high, blocking their way. There were several ropes hanging down from the obstacle ahead of them, to which the pirates swiftly attached the chests. Sara felt impressed despite herself at the way the motley rabble of men were able to so effectively work together to get the job done.

One by one, the members of their little band began to climb. Once a handful of the pirates had made it to the top, they began to haul the heavy chests up, inch by excruciating inch, until they were able to drag them over the top, to whatever awaited above.

Sara and Blackbeard were bringing up the rear of the group, and as the remainder of the party made the short climb, he gripped her shoulder and she turned back to look questioningly at him.

He seemed to study her with his dark impenetrable eyes for a second before speaking.

“Captain Sparrow, it is not necessary for you to make the climb... The ropes can be tied around your waist...”

Annoyance stirred within Sara and she tried hard to stamp it down. She was only partially successful.

“Because I’m a _woman_..? Well I’ve managed _just_ fine so far...”

She started to rant despite herself.

Blackbeard just looked amused.

“I would not dream of suggesting such a thing. I simply meant because of your hand.”

The imposing man reached for her injured limb, with gentle hands that belied their size. He examined it a second, looking it over, then looking at her with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Her surprise dispelled her irritation completely, and for a second she faltered, Blackbeard appearing to enjoy her reaction.

“Oh... Well, thank you... But I’ll be fine. It’s not my first broken hand!” she smirked at him.

The pirate appeared nonplussed, clearly expecting as much.

“Very well.”

And then it was Sara’s turn to climb.

The rocks were slippery, and had far less purchase than she expected. The pirates had scaled the wall with such ease that she hadn’t expected to have any trouble at all. But her fingers were stiff and slow, and her swollen hand; sore and painful, refused to obey her instructions. Still, she would not admit defeat, and so she hauled her way up, focusing on the pain to give her strength.

She was almost to the top when a lose rock broke away under her injured hand as she was pulling herself up. She fell backwards, catching her weight on her other hand and slamming against the wall. Her shoulder screamed in protest, and a sharp pain shot through her side. She clung on with her remaining hand with everything she had. Winded; desperately trying to catch her breath. To keep the edge of blackness at bay. Desperate not to do something embarrassing, like fall.

In her mind, she summoned an image; long blonde hair, head bobbed and shy smile. The top of a polyblend pantsuit visible as she leant over the edge, calling her on.

Her eyes drifted closed of their own accord and she felt strength flowing back into her muscles. She opened them with renewed determination, and once again swung her hand up, this time finding a solid hold, and she inched her way painfully up.

She repeated the motion, twice, three times. She lost count. But then there were no more handholds to be had, and a pair of rough hands were on her, hauling her over the lip and out into the fresh air. The bright light hurting her eyes after so long in the dismal passage.

She closed them against it.

The image of Ava was there, waiting for her. Smiling. Looking at Sara as if she _meant_ something to her. As if she could really see her, see _everything_ , and wanted her anyway. It was the way Sara remembered her looking that night in the bar, before it had all gone to shit. But her memory was wrong, distorted. The last few days had surely proved that. Even the picture she was so fond of looking at, the one she wished she was able to take out right now, was Sara’s wishful thinking. Ava looked nothing but annoyed, put out. That Sara thought she could see anything else there was clearly nothing but delusion.

She felt eyes on her, and quickly opened her own, only to find the young pirate watching her again. There was something else there this time. Something more than the disdain. Respect, or something close to it.

It should bother her, she knew. She should feel threatened or disturbed at the least, but she didn’t, and she couldn’t work out why. Maybe it was the sense of familiarity she couldn't manage to shake. Maybe she would ask Blackbeard about him later.

Aware he had been caught looking, the youth approached her, arm out, offering her the skin of rum, in the manner of which one might offer a piece of meat to a wild animal. She accepted it gratefully, and this time she took a purposeful long swig, before stoppering it and handing it back with a nod of thanks. She could feel the liquid, hot in her stomach, burning away the pain and the image of Ava still locked in her mind.

Herself once more, she stepped away a few paces from the group so that she could discreetly tap her com.

“Ray, you good?

It took a second for him to answer.

“Sure. Just a little shaken, nothing I can’t handle.” He sounded cheerful so Sara knew he was telling the truth.

“How about you Sara? That was almost quite a tumble.”

“I'm good.” She answered him.

“Cool. Well, I’m gonna go get a look at the lay of the land. Be right back.” And she once more felt him zip out of her pocket and away.

She shook her head lightly at the man’s unwavering positivity. Sometimes she envied him that. Other times she couldn’t think of anything worse. But right now it felt nice to be around.

She took a leaf out of Ray’s book and took a good look about, aware that she was rather slow to have done so.

They had emerged in a clearing, but all around them was a dense canopy of trees reaching high above their heads. Their branches spreading out into some mystical rooftop world stretching endlessly overhead. The foliage was so dense in parts that she couldn’t see more than a few feet in. She could hear the sounds of birds chirping, the clicking of crickets and other insects, and the russle of leaves from high in the trees as they were blown by the breeze. When she stopped to listen, the sound was almost unbearably loud.

She saw Blackbeard had dragged himself up out of the fissure and was in the process of dusting himself down. His eyes seemed to alight on her, and she had the distinct impression that he was checking her over, making sure she was still whole. It was an uncomfortable, invasive sensation, and she had to brace herself against the shudder that threatened to break loose.

He appeared satisfied with what he found, and subsequently fished in his coat once more and reclaimed his precious map. He turned it in his hands, orientating it, before purposely striding forwards, into the jungle.

As Sara herself moved onwards, she saw what she assumed was his landmark; a pair of stunted trees that had grown entangled to become a distinctive ‘X’ shape.

***

They trudged through the forest for what seemed an eternity. Although the treetop canopy sheltered them from the sun, the humidity of the vegetation provided no air or breeze, and Sara’s clothes had long ago become drenched in sweat. She cursed herself for not bringing any water, and the rum that was passed between them was doing little to help. In fact, in reality it was probably making her thirst worse.

She wondered if she might be displaying the symptoms of dehydration. But then it was a little hard to differentiate between the normal effects from the rum, and also the probable concussion that was still plaguing her. But there surely must be some reason she was struggling so much with a little light trekking.

She had completely lost all sense of direction by the time their leader pulled them up. Judging by the patches of sun she could see overhead, midday had come and gone. Her shoulder was stiff and sore, and she was niggled by a sharp pain in her side with every step she took.

She realised she should probably be paying attention to her surroundings and looked up. She did a double take. They had stopped in front of an immense gorge. The ground suddenly fell away into a chasm hundreds of feet deep, and at least fifty wide, she reckoned. On the other side, rising up from the forest, she could see the ruins of an ancient temple, crumbling away. It was a beautiful sight. There was almost something ethereal about it. She somehow knew without asking that the temple was their destination.

There were four precarious looking rope bridges that spanned the length of the breach, each one seeming even more perilous than the one before. The ropes holding them up seemed thin and frayed, and the wooden boards were green with rot, some having gone through entirely.

There were the remains of a fifth crossing, hanging uselessly down against the far cliff face; half the wooden slats were missing and the ones that remained clung to the rope by a thread, crooked and askew. Sara wondered how many people had been on it when it had given way. She wondered if it was the pirates. Blackbeard was fastidiously avoiding looking at the remains, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that it had been. She felt for the captain who had given the order which resulted in the death of his men. A shock of grief hit her suddenly as a picture of Martin forced it’s way out of the locked box in her mind, before she was able to push it back.

She made her way over to the pirate Captain, a whisper of self-preservation leading her there.

He looked up from studying his map at her approach.

“I thought you _said_ you'd been here plenty of times before..?” She began, indicating to the map.

“Indeed. But I’m sure you yourself can appreciate caution when it comes to leading your men. Only one of these bridges will provide us safe passage.”

His eyes flicked involuntarily to the ruins of the other bridge.

“Are you sure _any_ of these bridges will provide ‘safe passage’?” She asked sceptically.

The big man laughed.

“I am living proof of that. And if I can pass safely...” He paused and gave her a lingering look, “...you will have no trouble. The map shows me which crossing is safe. Each time I recheck my calculations.”

“Well I guess I will just have to trust you then.” She replied, with a raise of an eyebrow and tilt of her head. A not quite challenge in her voice.

“I suppose you will.” He winked at her with a playful smile on his face. “I will not be too much longer, but in the meantime you would not appear any less for enjoying the break.”

He nodded over to where most of the pirates were gathered around a bush which contained bright purple berries nestled within its leaves. Their spirits had apparently risen again, and their voices rose loud above the natural buzz of the forest. Laughing and shouting in equal measure.

“The berries are good to eat. And thirst quenching too.”

And with that his head was back in the map, as he mumbled to himself and paced this way and that.

***

It wasn't long before the motley crew was assembled once again.

Sara felt surprisingly refreshed after the handful of berries she had enjoyed. She had even passed the rum along without partaking when it had once again found it’s way into her hands. She had the feeling she would need to keep her wits about her.

The bridge they were to travel was the second one along. To Sara it didn’t look to be in any better state of repair than any of the others. His men appeared to trust him implicitly, however, as they set off as if it were nothing more than crossing a street.

As she took her first step, the wood creaking ominously under her weight, she heard a reassuring voice in her ear.

“ _Holy Temple of Doom_ , this could be right out of Indiana Jones. Fraying rope bridge; creepy temple; all we need now are some crazed Nazi's or...”

“ _RAY_.” She chided the excited man through gritted teeth, cutting him off. “Not helping...”

“Right... Sorry. Well my scans show that the integrity of the bridge should hold... But I’ll stay close by anyway... just in case...”

“Thank you.” She replied earnestly.

She continued on, one foot after the other. Step by step. She was almost half way. The sun was beating down, she could feel a trickle of sweat running down between her cleavage.

They were strung out at varying points over the crossing, her and the pirates. It swayed haphazardly from side to side with the movement of the bodies along it, making walking more difficult than it should be.

She started to get the prickle at the back of her neck once more. A sixth sense of foreboding. They were too open, exposed. Vulnerable stuck out here on this swaying death trap. It would take nothing to have them all falling to their doom.

She picked up her pace.

Her boot scuffed at some clumps of dirt on the rotting plank ahead of her and sent it scuttling over the edge, tumbling endlessly away into the chasm below. Unbidden, her eyes tracked it’s progress, and then the ground seemed to be racing upwards to meet her.

She closed her eyes against the distorted vision, and gripped the rope until her knuckles turned white and her broken hand groaned in painful protest. But her head still spun and she felt dangerously off balance.

She opened her eyes, and the planks blurred together in front of her. She felt blind, unable to make out the way.

“Sara?” Ray called through the com. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Ray, I’m... _Shit_ ” She cut off as the world once again twisted about her. There was a blinding pain in her skull and she couldn’t think straight.

She could hear laughter coming from all around. Cold and chilling. Getting louder.

Coming for her.

She tried to look around but she was frozen to the spot...


	6. Another name for pirate treasure (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 part 2...
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading

_She could hear laughter coming from all around. Cold and chilling. Getting louder._

_Coming for her._

_She tried to look around but she was frozen to the spot._

 

“Sara?” Ray’s voice was loud in her ear, frantic now. “SARA... I’m gonna come get you. Hold on okay”

His last words penetrated the fog in her mind.

“No.” She growled. “No. I got this.”

With a supreme effort, she moved her first foot forward, trusting instincts she knew had once been honed to perfection. Praying luck would be on her side.

Her progress was excruciatingly slow. She gripped the ropes with everything she had, convinced every step would send her plummeting to her death. She knew that all eyes were on her, judging her. Accusing. It shouldn’t matter. They had the location of the weapons now and she wasn’t really trying to join Blackbeard's crew. But somehow it did matter. This wasn't her, she wasn't this weak liability that was unable to complete a short climb, and froze up on a little rope bridge. She wasn't someone who caved when the going gets tough. And she couldn’t stand the thought of Blackbeard and his men thinking otherwise.

It was this thought that spurred her on. Her vision cleared and the laughter faded until she could barely hear it, and then it was gone altogether. She was still sick with dizziness and nausea, but she ground her teeth and, step by step, the far side became gradually within her reach.

The second she was safely away from the edge, her stomach rebelled, and she heaved, falling to her knees. She could taste the sweet berries, and the bitter rum burning in her throat and mouth. She heaved until there was nothing left, and then she heaved some more. She felt freezing despite the heat of the day.

She was still sat on the floor, her muscles still too feeble to attempt moving. The evidence of her weakness still in a putrid pile next to her, taunting her.

She heard the crunch of footsteps approaching. Saw the impressive boots of the pirate captain as they came to a halt just in front of her. Shame filled her. She didn’t want to look at him. She forced herself to do it.

He stood there, so tall she had to crane her neck to look at his face. Even then it was silhouetted by the sun and she had to shield her eyes. He crouched down to her level so that they were almost face to face. There was nothing of the amusement on his face that he so often displayed.

“You owe me an explanation, Sparrow.”

The name suddenly sounded very fitting. She didn’t feel much like the Canary at the moment anyway.

His voice wasn't hard, but there was a look of something on his face. A look that seemed familiar, and yet strange on his features. It was the look she had so often seen on Ava's face, the mixture of concern and annoyance and impatience.

In her ear she heard Ray echo the sentiment, obviously observing from somewhere nearby.

_“Yeah what happened out there Sara? Why did you just freeze like that?”_

She sighed. Time to come clean.

She removed her hat and carelessly tossed it to one side. Then untied her bandana. The wound in her hairline had evidently at some stage still been weeping, and the dry crusted blood was stuck to the fabric and it pulled painfully as she tore it off.

It looked ugly. She heard Ray take in a hiss of breath. She wished he wasn't there to witness this.

Blackbeard gently tilted her head to get a better look. From somewhere he pulled a handkerchief and uncorked his skin of rum. He wet the cloth and then dabbed it to her wound. It stung pleasantly and she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling. Despite herself she craved the comfort he was giving, even though she knew she deserved none.

“This is a nasty wound.” He commented, voice grave. “It was foolish of you to try to conceal it. You put yourself and my men at risk. You should not have undertaken this voyage.”

“Maybe I _should_ have said something, but it was fine... It wasn’t _even_ worth mentioning. And I’m not used to having to ask anyone’s permission.” There was a hint of defiance to her voice as she pouted her lips.

“You are a stubborn woman, Jacqueline Sparrow. And I admit I find you intriguing. But there is a fine line between stubborn and foolish. Between intrigue and danger. I am yet to decide which you are.” He pronounced, standing once more.

 _“I don't get it, Sara. Of course you weren't gonna tell the pirates; but you should've said something to us; we're your team. And you could’ve had Gideon fix you right up.”_ There was a mixture of accusation and hurt in Ray's voice.

She couldn’t respond to him, but at his words, and those of the pirate, she felt the defiance spark, like a match, igniting the flames of her ire, always so close to the surface. And those flames burnt through the nausea and focused her vision.

What right did these men have to be standing there telling her what she should have done? What right did they have to judge and berate her, with her on her knees...

For a moment her nightmare - her past - rose up around her, painting the sky black, ancient stone walls rising about them. It wasn’t Blackbeard, but Ra's al Ghul that stood in front of her...

But no, she was stronger than this. She wouldn’t go back there. Focusing on her anger, she used it to clear her mind, and then she was back on the island, sprawled in the dirt at the top of the ravine next to her own vomit.

She got to her feet. Steady once more.

“Look, I don’t need _anyone’s_ judgement, okay... I’m a good Captain. I’ve got a good crew. And yes, we could use some help right now, but that doesn't mean we answer to you. If you don’t wanna help us, then fine, we'll find help elsewhere.”

 _“Sara, what are you doing?”_ Ray hissed in her ear. “ _We've got the location of the weapons. I don’t think it’s a good idea to start picking a fight with the big scary pirate._ ”

Sara almost gave herself away by telling him to shut up, even though in the rational part of her mind she knew he was right. But it was Blackbeard she was concentrating on.

His face seemed to grow dark for a second, and she became aware of his imposing figure. His heavily muscled frame rigid and taut. It didn’t worry her. She knew she could take him.

She stood her ground. And he stood his, watching her, contemplating. She could once again feel the heavy weight of his eyes, as they pierced into her own.

Several tense seconds passed in the standoff between the two captains, before Blackbeard relaxed minutely and some of the darkness faded from his face.

He rummaged around in his coat pocket, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath. Something about “ _bloody stubborn women_ ”. When he withdrew his hand, the pirate was holding a velvet pouch.

“The coca leaf. Chew them and hold them in your mouth. It will help ease your sickness.” He passed her the pouch and walked off, joining his crew who had settled a short way away, most watching with keen interest while making use of the reprieve to un-stopper the skins of rum.

Sara opened the pouch. She picked a few of the dull dry leaves out and looked at them. She knew of them well. They had used similar remedies in the league to combat the effects of concussions and hangovers alike.

She took the gift for what it was, and placed a few of the leaves in her mouth and stuffed the pouch into her pocket. They left an earthy bitter taste as the pulp was released and ran down her throat. Unpleasant, but at least it dispelled the residual taste of her sickness from her mouth.

She wondered if Ray was still nearby as she retied her bandana. The material felt coarse and uncomfortable against the large lump and damaged skin on her head. She decided against putting the hat back on. It hardly mattered anymore. These men had already made their mind up about her one way or another, and the thing was too hot and constricting. She left it where it was in the dirt.

“Ray” she whispered discreetly.

“Still here.” Came his even reply.

“You wanna head into the temple? Take a look around? I’ll stay with the pirates... For now.” She added, feeling somewhat rueful now her anger had settled and her mind cleared.

“Sure”

He still sounded cheerful enough, no doubt excited by the prospect of going all Lara Croft tomb raider. Still, she knew the scientist wouldn’t let her forget what had just transpired, and she was no doubt in for an awkward conversation later. Though she had plenty of time to think up a reasonable excuse, or devise a way to avoid the conversation altogether.

“Ray... Be careful alright.”

“You too Sara.”

***

“ _Wowzers_!!” Ray exclaimed into the com, his voice the epitome of excitement, “Are you seeing this Sara?”

She was.

Blackbeard had finally lead his rag-tag band into the crumbling ruins. Or what looked like crumbling ruins from the outside. Inside, the place bore no resemblance whatsoever to anything ancient or sacred.

It was essentially a special ops armoury. A vast warehouse with shelves upon shelves stacked high with enough firepower to fuel years of modern warfare. Nate was spot on with his theory. And yet, despite knowing what they were going to find, Sara had completely underestimated the scale of it. She stood frozen, trying to take it all in.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” A deep voice rumbled by her side. “And you still think you don’t need me?”

His voice was amicable enough, but Sara detected a hint of something underneath. Almost a warning. Be impressed. Know your place. You may be a captain, but I will be an emperor.

He moved away, clearly not caring to hear any response she may make.

“Fill your trunks lads.” He commanded, clapping his hands together with a great thundering boom, all business now.

And the pirates got to work, clearly having done this before, a range of weapons going into each chest. More efficient than pirates had any right to be. The light was low; there must have been some generator running to power the green glow emitted from various points along the floor and ceiling. It bathed everything with a faint green tinge; eerie, and the pirates looked as shadows as they scurried about, doing their masters bidding.

Sara was left alone to wander the aisles, looking at the rows of submachine guns and sniper rifles. Cages filled top to bottom with grenades. Boxes overflowing with ammunition. Trying to work out how in the hell they were gonna get rid of it all. Initially she had just though to have Ray shrink it and take it on board the Waverider. But now, seeing exactly how much they were dealing with, it was clear that wasn't an option.

They were gonna have to bring the ship back here and blow the whole place to hell. Mick would enjoy that at least. It just meant more time before they were able to fix the anachronism.

And more time for the Darhks to show up, a voice in her head added.

“Ah Sara? I think you’re gonna wanna see this” Ray’s voice in her ear broke into her thoughts.

He directed her down rows and across corridors, each one teeming with ever more advanced weaponry. She no longer knew where the rest of her adopted crew were, though she could still hear the faint sounds of activity from somewhere behind her.

They would have to make this quick. It would arouse suspicion if she were found to be wandering too far on her own.

She found a full sized Ray in what must be close to the centre of the warehouse. He was kneeling on the floor with something in his hands, examining it closely. It was shielded from her view by the position of his body. She was cut off from the reproach she was about to issue him for being careless and risking detection as he abruptly stood and revealed just what it was he had found.

“ _What the..._ ” She breathed.

There in his hands, unless she was mistaken, was Amaya’s Anansi Totem.

“How the hell did that get here?” She stage whispered to her team mate, although she didn’t really expect him to have the answer.

Of course it was Ray, so he answered anyway.

“I’m not sure, it must be part of the anachronism. But as far as we know, Amaya hasn’t reported it missing, so this is either a future version of the totem, or a past version that, like my suit, just hasn't cemented yet...” He sounded excited as always.

“...Luckily I decided to do a scan of the warehouse to see if there was anything unusual.” He sounded pleased with himself, and was positively beaming.

“ _Great_.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, momentarily closing her eyes, “So when this thing decides to cement itself, we're gonna be down _not only_ your atom suit, but Amaya's ability to summon animal spirits as well.” Sara commented, thinking through the implications. She didn’t like it.

“We need to get it back to the Waverider.” She continued, “See if Gideon or Nate can work out if it’s come from the past or...”

She stopped abruptly as she heard a noise from nearby. Maybe an aisle or two away. Shit.

She looked at Ray, luckily he seemed to have heard it too. She made a random motion with her fingers which he, thankfully, took to mean he should shrink down again. Totem in tow.

She removed one of the daggers hanging from her belt and held it discreetly in the palm of her hand. Noiselessly she crept along the corridor, towards where she had heard the sound. If they had been detected, better to deal with it now than when whoever it was reported them to Blackbeard. Than when she would have a whole host of pirates to take out.

The light was playing tricks with her eyes, shadows seeming to appear from nowhere. She reached the end of her row, and cautiously peered out. It was clear. Slowly, with all the stealth expected of a trained assassin, she turned down the aisle, edging forwards.

The next row was also empty. Then she heard it again, closer this time. A rummaging sound, as if objects were being lifted up and then replaced. As though someone was searching for something.

She took a breath, then holding it, she inched round until she had a clear view down the walkway.

One of the pirates was there, working his way along, appearing to intently examine the shelves of weaponry as he went. Sometimes picking up an object to take a closer look, or to make sure there was nothing concealed behind it. Clearly he was too invested in his own task to have overheard herself and Ray's conversation. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. Their cover was still intact.

She watched him a moment longer before she realised that he was familiar to her. It was the slender pirate that had drawn her attention all day, and who's attention she seemed to have inadvertently attracted. Somehow it didn’t come as a surprise that it should be this particular pirate off on his own mission. She wondered what he was searching for. She wondered if Blackbeard had authorised his hunt, or was even aware of it.

As intriguing as it was, she would have to leave her curiosity unanswered. It would be too dangerous for her to start trying to get answers now. And besides, surely it would have little impact on her own mission.

She retreated back round the corner, unseen. On light feet, she worked her way over a few rows, before making her way back to where Blackbeard’s men were still busy filling the chests with their loot.

For once she seemed to be in luck, and her disappearance hadn’t been noted.

***

She didn’t have long to wait before all the chests were laden full. The loads were heavy, and she watched as the pirates strained to lift them. She didn’t bother to offer her assistance this time.

Outside, heavy clouds had started to build up. Unusual, as it had still been a completely blue sky when they had entered, not more than half an hour ago she thought. Although what did she know of tropical weather patterns? This could be completely normal for all she knew.

Blackbeard stood with a hand to his eyes, looking up at the sky. There was a frown on his face, and he almost looked worried. Maybe not so usual then.

“The weather is turning. We must make haste back to the ship.”

His voice was calm as he commanded his men, but even then, there was an undercurrent of urgency about the group that set Sara on edge. She added a few more leaves to the ball already in her mouth. She felt Blackbeard's eyes on her, but he made no comment, whatever he may be thinking.

They set off, hurrying as much as they could with their heavy cargo. Sara noticed that her pirate had rematerialized once more, sullen as ever as he hefted one of the chests. No one else appeared to have noticed his absence.

They paused by the rope bridges. A moment of conversation was had between the Captain and a couple of the men. A heavy breeze had picked up and was whipping at her hair. It caught at the bridges and they swayed side to side in an alarming fashion.

They took the chests across one at a time. There was only room for two to carry the weighty loads. Blackbeard himself took up position at the head of the first one. Sara could see his muscles bulging under his jacket as he heaved it up.

The progress was achingly slow. Sara watched with her heart in her mouth as the bridge creaked and swayed with every step they took. There was a point they looked so unbalanced she was convinced they would have to abandon the chest over the side, or plunge into the deadly drop themselves.

Miraculously they made it to the other side, and a hearty cheer rang out. Even across the void Sara could make out the wide grin on the pirate captain’s face. She found herself grinning back, caught up in the jubilation despite herself.

The second and third chests made it across in an equally precarious manner. But receiving equal acclaim on finding the safety of the other side.

The couple carrying the fourth trunk seemed more nervous and less sure-footed. Even after a few paces they faltered and had to put the case down, and harsh words were exchanged between the pair.

The wind was beginning to howl as they once again resumed their way, no more steady than before. Sara could see the arms of the man nearest her trembling with the effort, and his steps were clumsy and faltering. The man in front of him craning his head round to issue words of encouragement or to berate him, Sara couldn't tell which.

There was a sudden forceful gust of wind. The bridge swung violently. The man closest to her stumbled, and lost his footing. He fell heavily with his back against the rope, still clinging onto the chest for dear life. His face, and that of the man behind him, were a silent mask of horror. Time stood still, and for a moment Sara was sure he would be able to right himself. That it would all be okay.

But then she saw it happen, as if in slow motion. The rope holding him up gave way, the fibres and knots tearing apart to leave a useless flaccid cord flapping in the wind. He let go of the chest, his arms circling uselessly as he fervently tried to catch himself, even as his face already registered the impotence of the effort.

He screamed out, and then he was gone. Falling, tumbling down to his death. How long would it take, she wondered, the fall. How long would he have knowing that his body was about to be smashed to a pulp on the rocks below. Knowing that everything in his life had been a futile waste, leading only to this; his horrific death on some island that shouldn’t exist, searching out weapons that soon wouldn’t exist, for a man that was himself supposed to be dead in a matter of days.

Even as she watched him falling away, she saw the bridge twist violently with the reverberations. The chest slipped, so it was resting half off the wooden planks, teetering precariously over the side.

The remaining man made a desperate foolish grab for it. But it was too heavy, and the bridge was too unbalanced.

He caught it just as it started to slide into the void. The look of triumph on his face gave way to a sheer panic, as he realised too late his mistake. That he didn’t have the strength to hold it, up, and as the force of it took him, he was powerless to right himself.

Sara could only watch in horror with the rest of the men as his body too went careening into the abyss to join his friend in oblivion. Leaving the bridge empty and calm once again, as it rocked gently from side to side, belying the tragedy that had just come to pass on its decaying rungs.

***

The atmosphere was sombre as they trudged back through the jungle. The weather reflecting the mood of the group. The first drops of moisture came tumbling out of the sky and the wind was howling around them, the clouds heavy and menacing overhead.

Blackbeard's countenance remained grim since the incident at the bridge. Sara wondered which he was mourning more, the loss of his men or the loss of the weapons. He kept to himself, every now and again looking up at the sky and muttering under his breath before hastening the already gruelling pace.

Sara tried as best she could to dispel the image of the falling pirates from her mind. The way their bodies had looked as they tumbled helplessly through the air.

She knew the feeling well. The feeling of falling, of suddenly finding herself with nothing beneath her feet. Of confusion and then a final moment of realisation before the sickening impact. The feeling of air rushing from her lungs for the final time, of bones splintering and tissues ripping, of organs disintegrating against solid ground as her body smashed into it.

She wondered if that was the way _she_ had looked as she dropped from the sky. If she had the same look of horror etched into her features as those men as they realised their fate. If that was Laurels final image of her.

Her palms were sweating and her legs trembling. She looked down and saw three arrows protruding from her abdomen. She gasped, but then she blinked and they were gone.

She wondered for the millionth time what was wrong with her, why she was reacting like this; having flashbacks, panicking, losing control. There was one obvious answer. _Mallus_.

But then, she was jumping to conclusions. After all it wasn't every day that she saw two men fall hundreds of feet to their deaths. She would have to be inhuman not to feel anything. And given her history, well, surely her response was only normal.

She swallowed, trying hard to put the thoughts away. Focusing on keeping up with the party, on the ache in her muscles and the pain... well, pretty much everywhere. It helped.

At some stage Ray had turned up again, chattering happily away in her ear. She wanted to snap at him, to tell him to shut up. To ask him where he had been, and why he hadn’t been there. But she was too near to the rest, and she could still feel several eyes on her, Blackbeard and the other one, no doubt. Though she kept her own eyes on the ground and did not look up to confirm her suspicions. And anyway, it was no more Ray's fault - what had happened - than her own.

She tried not to think about the weather, the approaching storm, and the boat trip back.

She tried, but with every step that brought them closer to the cove and to the waiting ship, the fear seemed to build in her mind, until it blocked everything else out and she was left numb with it.

They reached the pothole in the ground that lead to the tight passage.

As the pirates were securing the ropes around the remaining chests and lowering them down, Sara found herself with the rum back in her hands once again. She debated passing the thing along. But before she could think better of it, she uncorked it and took a long swig. The harsh liquid burnt through the fog of fear in her mind. Maybe this was why the pirates drank such a strong spirit, maybe it wasn’t just their love of intoxication, but without it they would never have the fortitude to keep going, to sail in storms or drag stupidly large chests over rickety crumbling bridges.

Even though he kept silent, she could almost hear Ray’s judgement out loud. His concern. She internally rolled her eyes...

And took another large mouthful. The voice in her head that sounded like Ray quieted as a buzz took over. Not enough to impede her reactions or impair her decisions, but just enough to take the edge off so she could get on that damn boat.

***

The weather was even worse than expected when they reached the rocky inlet where they had arrived what was, in reality, only a few hours, but felt to Sara like forever ago.

The tide was coming in, the narrow passage had already been knee high with water as they had sloshed through it, and it was rising quickly.

There was no beach to be seen. The little rowing boats were being tossed about on their moorings, coming dangerously close to being smashed against the rocks. The water was churning against her legs in dizzying rips and eddys, making putting one foot in front of the other almost impossible, and she felt the loose shale shift precariously beneath her feet. Rain was lashing down from the tumultuous heavens, caught by the wind to slam against her face.

Blackbeard was shouting something to the rest of them, his dark features desperate, but whatever it was became lost in the screech of the wind. It didn’t matter, she knew his words without needing to hear them.

There was no way back. Their passage through the cliff was cut off from them, even if they could find it again in the storm. The only chance was to reach the ship, and then pray the anchor would hold, and that they didn’t overturn.

It was slow going. The water had reached the top of her thighs. With each step she felt convinced she would be swept off her feet to become lost once again in the great grey sea. She bit down hard into the clump of coca leaves in her mouth, grateful that they were mostly able to keep her dizziness at bay. She knew without them she would already have been swept away.

“ _Ray_ ” she called through the storm, wondering if her com would still even work being this waterlogged.

“ _Ray_ ” she tried again. “ _You there_?”

“I’m here Captain” Came the ever chirpy voice, even as the coms crackled and she could hear him coughing and spluttering; the tiny man clearly having a rough time of it against the driving wind and pouring rain. “...Just about” he choked.

“Ray, can you get yourself to safety?” She shouted, confident no one but the intended recipient would hear her. And even if anyone saw her, she was no different to all the others who were screaming profanities into the wind.

“I think so...but, Sara, what about you? I’m not leaving you out here.”

She looked about her, and for a second everything seemed to move in slow motion.

She watched as the party of damned men were battered by the sea and the wind and rain alike. The men who were still desperately hauling the useless treasure, refusing to abandon it to the ocean. Beaten back with every step. She watched as a giant wave took an eternity to engulf one group, as they were slowly sucked under. It all happened in the blink of an eye, and yet she could catalogue every second of it.

And then time righted itself once more.

“I... I'll be fine.” She swallowed against the lie. “Ray, the priority _has_ to be getting the necklace back to Amaya. Do you hear me?” She shouted, staggering back as a particularly powerful wave crashed into her.

He was quiet a moment. She didn’t even know if he had heard her. If he was still there, or still alive.

Then her com crackled to life.

“Sure, I hear you. Stay safe Sara.”

“You too Ray.”

She felt a sudden fondness for the gentle man who had been at her side for more than two years. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but he was a good man, and a good friend. It had been an honour to fight beside him. She just hoped that he made it back in one piece.

But then, by no small miracle, Sara, the pirates and the treasure somehow all made it to the skiffs. The heavy chests were heaved up onto the boats, Blackbeard himself doing the lions share of the lifting. Sara was one of the first to scramble on board. She leant over the side, soaked to the bone, giving her hand to the unfortunate souls still battling against the sea, and hauling them over the side with every ounce of strength she possessed.

She had dropped into a boat with two of the chests. There were six of them on board, including her, and they each grabbed an oar, pulling hard against the might of the ocean with everything they had. Blackbeard and the rest were in the other boat ahead of them.

They were sitting low in the water. Too low. With every other stroke they took on more and more, the waves washing over the side, filling the bottom of their vessel. They weren’t making any impression on the ship, it was still just a hulking grey outline against the mist that was setting in. The other boat was pulling away from them. They were getting left behind.

Sara grit her teeth and pulled on the oar with all her strength. Again and again. Her shoulder was agony with every movement, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if they couldn’t reach the safety of the ship. She used the pain to fuel her rage, the rage to give her power. She could beat this. They could beat this.

But it wasn’t enough. They were still too far away. They were going under; she could see the inevitability of it clear as day.

“We're too heavy” she shouted out to anyone who would listen. “We gotta get rid of one of the chests, it’s the only way.”

She got up and started pulling at the topmost chest, but it was too cumbersome for her to get over the side on her own.

A pockmarked face appeared in front of her. Hard and cruel.

“We throw tha’ chest o'er my dead corpse” He spat at her through a mouth of yellow rotting teeth.

“ ‘Owser'bout we throw you instead, tha'll ligh'en us up.”

He came at her, but she was ready. It only took one hit with the handle of the oar to knock him out cold onto the bottom of the boat. She reached down an pulled him out of the water, draping him over one of the benches. They were all going to die anyway, but at least his would be one less death on her card.

“Anyone else?” She growled. No one made a move either against her or to help her.

She looked around at the hard faces of the pirates. Young and old. For the first time she let herself see the humanity within them. They were not so different to her. They were the men she was going to die with.

So much for fighting Darhk. So much for fighting Mallus. She laughed aloud, but it might as well have been a sob. After everything that she had been through, it had all come back to this. A few planks of wood in the middle of the sea, a thousand miles from home.

A wave hit them and they were propelled into the air. This was it, then.

But then the boat landed with a gentle splash back on the surface of the water. They were no longer sinking, and in fact they were moving, being propelled as if by some unknown force, in the direction of the ship. Catching up with the skiff ahead of them.

It was a miracle.

Except Sara didn’t believe in miracles.

She gripped the edge of the boat hard and peered over the side, trying to get a glimpse into the turbulent waters below.

She could barely see anything. But then she caught it, the glimpse of red she knew she would find.

_Ray_

***

They clambered up the rigging on the side of the ship.

Even that was a deadly trial as the wind tried it’s hardest to rip her away. As her stiff fingers refused time and again to cooperate.

But then it was done, all of them were up and over the railings, sprawled out along the deck. She closed her eyes, exhaustion taking over, allowing herself to believe that they had made it. That she was safe. She had never felt so happy to be on a ship in her life.

She forced her eyes open. Forced her stiff muscles to respond as she pulled herself to her feet.

The ship was a hive of activity.

Blackbeard was talking frantically with his first mate who had stayed behind and not accompanied them on their ill-fated expedition. They were both gesturing wildly but seemed to reach some consensus. He continually broke off from his conversation to bark orders at his men.

Many pairs of hands were hard at work, hauling their deadly cargo on board. Dragging the chests across the rain battered deck, sliding dangerously with every roll of the ship as it was continuously buffeted by the driving wind and crashing waves of the raging storm about them.

Most of the sails had been rolled up and battened down. Some of the crew were still up high in the rigging, risking their lives to secure the ship. Sara couldn’t bring herself to look, visions of two bodies falling already filling her mind. Even over the cacophony around her Sara could hear the way the mast made a high pitched keening, and she was left wondering just how much more it could take before it splintered and tore the hull in two.

In the chaos, no one was paying attention to her.

She almost succumbed to her fear. It would have been so easy to let her terror overtake her. To allow the crippling paralysis to take a hold.

But no. She had to stay strong. She couldn’t give in to the weakness and the fear.

She allowed herself to touch on the anger that was her constant companion, the bloodlust burning just beneath the surface of her skin. Just a small taste. Not enough to lose herself.

It worked. It cut across the paralysis holding her limbs hostage, and she felt a fire blazing in her chest, setting her free.

She made her way across the slick deck towards the stern of the ship, holding onto the railings as the ship listed side to side.

There was no one about that far back and she ducked behind some cargo boxes tethered under a large net.

“Ray” She called out into her com.

He didn’t reply, and she started violently when he suddenly appeared right next to her, full sized once again.

“Ray, _thank god_ ” She breathed out, but then her voice became stern, “You disobeyed my orders.” She reprimanded, a hard look on her face.

Ray’s own smile faltered at her words.

“ _Thank you_.” She gripped his shoulder and allowed her face to become softer as she said the words, as wholeheartedly as she could whilst fighting to be heard over the noise of the elements.

“It’s okay” He beamed “I couldn’t let our Captain get lost out to sea... again” He gulped, and his eyes widened minutely at the last word, almost as if he knew he shouldn’t dare to bring it up.

Her own eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but the man deserved a pass, despite his tactlessness, so she said nothing more of it...

It happened so suddenly that it couldn’t possibly be natural...

The wind that had been so powerfully insistent all at once dropped, and the sea which had been ferociously battering the ship became suddenly calm. The deafening noise ceased and a heavy silence took its place.

Out of nowhere a soupy fog rolled in, covering the entire ship. So dense that she could no longer see more than a few feet around her. The hard edges of the ship becoming blurred and indistinct.

The sense of foreboding that had been prickling at her for much of the day suddenly roared to life, an alarm bell within the chaos of her mind.

She took a step back, drawing her cutlass into her hand and looking about for the threat she knew for certain was coming.

And then she saw it on the other side of the rails; a form slowly taking shape, drawing inexorably closer.

A dark hulking hull. Tattered black sails hanging limp from their masts. Shadowed figures standing patiently, watching and waiting, sinister in their stillness.

Eventually, in a crunching of wood on wood, the two ships ground together. Sara struggled to stay upright as the juddering tremors reverberated throughout the ship.

Once the screeching of the collision had finished, silence again reigned supreme. No one moved. The fog was cold and clammy against her skin, almost as if the vapour had a life of its own.

As if the thought itself had triggered it, the mist ahead of her began to coalesce, darkening and becoming solid. Taking the familiar form of a beautiful dark skinned woman, standing graceful and proud on the deck of the ghostly ship besides their own.

A woman who possessed every ounce of the ferocity, but none of the compassion of her grandmother. A woman who would not hesitate to kill every person on board this ship.

 _Kuasa_...


	7. Most horrible way to die...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm before the calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another long one for you! 
> 
> So I just watched 3x12 i.e the pirate episode, and I just wanted to clarify a couple of bits...
> 
> The first being that, when I decided to write this particular anachronism plotline, I had no idea that they were gonna go to the same time period and meet the same pirate in the show!! I know it sounds unbelievable, but believe me, I'm not sure anyone has had a bigger WTF moment than I had when I found out. 
> 
> The other thing I wanted to just 100% clarify, is that other than the name, there really are no similarities between the shows Blackbeard and my Blackbeard. At all. Just saying cos I think it's important to note ;) 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the continued support with this series. And I hope you all enjoy this next chapter....

_As if the thought itself had triggered it, the mist ahead of her began to coalesce, darkening and becoming solid. Taking the familiar form of a beautiful dark skinned woman, standing graceful and proud on the deck of the ghostly ship besides their own._

_A woman who possessed every ounce of the ferocity, but none of the compassion of her grandmother. A woman who would not hesitate to kill every person on board this ship._

_“Kuasa”_

Sara breathed.

“Whoa! I didn’t know she could do that!” Beside her, a wide eyed Ray seemed equally as shell shocked.

She didn’t have a response for him. But then all hell broke loose and it didn’t matter.

The ghostly bodies of the attackers as one began to spill over the rails and onto the deck of their own beleaguered ship.

From somewhere she heard Blackbeard’s voice, raised above the rabble, mustering the defence.

She looked to Ray, a brief meeting of their eyes was all it took to communicate what she intended. He gave a slight nod of his head, and then hit the button in the centre of his chest, shrinking so that he was no longer visible. Sara knew that he was already zipping away to join the battle.

Without a second thought, she herself charged into the fray, cutlass in one hand and dagger in the other.

She took down the first man she came to with ease, blocking his thrust and swinging her sword at his throat, feeling the resistance as it sliced through the fragile skin and cartilage it encountered. The body fell to the floor and she didn’t spare it a second thought, knowing he wouldn’t be rising again.

Immediately a second man was on her. Swinging wildly, without skill, but savage and determined. Again she blocked his persistent hacking blows, this time using the knife in her left hand to get under his defences, the point finding the soft skin under his ribs. With a sick satisfaction she tore upwards, ripping through his heart and lungs. He twisted on the end of her blade, skewered, unable to get loose. She held on tight, even as pain erupted in her injured shoulder with the strain.

It was only then that she looked at his face. The sight caused her to take a step back, losing her grip on the dagger that was still protruding out of his chest.

The man she was fighting was already a corpse. Pallid grey skin hung off his bones; rotting, festering with ugly oozing sores. His hair was straggly with clumps coming out at the roots, the skull almost luminescent where it could be seen underneath, as patches of skin had torn away. His eyes were jelly in their sockets, sightless. It was the smell that was the worst, though. A putrefying, cloying scent of death. It invaded her senses, and caught at the back of her throat, choking her.

Even as the body fell away, it coughed and a viscous black substance bubbled out, clots catching on the thin remains of its lips to hang down from its chin.

She peered through the mist. Everywhere she saw the same grotesque sight; an army of dead men, swarming over the ship.

There was only one explanation. _Mallus_.

She didn’t have time to think on it further as several more bodies charged towards her. Quickly retrieving her dagger, she met her attackers head on.

Around her the pirates seemed to be holding their own. From the glimpses she caught, it seemed that they were stemming the tide, beating the invaders back. Blackbeard himself fought with a ferocity that impressed even Sara, as she saw him effortlessly send two men careening over the side. She noticed several others go down apparently of their own accord. Clearly the atom was also hard at work.

From somewhere she heard the tell-tale pop of machine gun fire. The grotesque figures jerked and twisted as marionettes cut from their strings as bullets sprayed the deck. Sara cringed, imagining wayward bullets heading for her own back, as she prayed the pirates were an accurate shot.

And then everything changed.

Kuasa materialised up into the middle of the deck. One of the pirates charged her, and was sent flying through the air, colliding with his crewmate, and both of them went down, tumbling across the floor like ten-pin skittles. Another tried his luck and found himself instantly impaled on his own sword. A hail of bullets rippled harmlessly through her, only to instead tear apart both pirate and ghoul alike.

The water witch moved through the ship, slaughtering anyone who got in her way with an ease that belied nature. The pirate crew faltered, suddenly overwhelmed.

Sara saw it happening even as she took down another rotting corpse with a quick succession of blows to the head, leaving its teeth coming detached and a gooey eyeball dangling from a bloody string of gristle.

With a speed born of years of practice, she let loose the dagger from the palm of her hand. The blade went spinning across the deck with a deadly accuracy. For a moment she thought it would hit home, but then at the last moment, the woman's form shimmered and the blade passed innocuously through the watery figure to bury itself hilt deep in the sturdy wood of the mast behind her. Sara was already racing forward, grabbing the second dagger from her sash, preparing for a follow-up attack.

Kuasa solidified and slowly turned towards Sara, her lips curled up into a haughty smile as their eyes met.

“Kuasa. _Great_ to see you. Really. I’ve been looking forward to a rematch.” Sara gave a sardonic smile of her own as she began circling the lethal granddaughter of her friend.

Kuasa narrowed her eyes.

“You are a fool if you expect the outcome to be any different...

“Oh and Damien Darhk sends his regards”

And with that the elemental spun forwards, aiming a powerful blow to Sara’s head that the Captain only just managed to avoid. She retaliated with a swift series of strikes with her sword, but Kuasa’s movements were as fluid as water, and for every blow Sara aimed at her, the woman seemed to be two moves ahead.

“So I see Darhk’s got you doing his dirty work for him? Or, maybe he's just not a fan of the company you’re keeping these days..?” Sara cut off as she narrowly ducked under another fist aimed at her face, and then staggered back under the force of a kick to her abdomen.

“I mean...” She gasped as she recovered the breath which had been momentarily knocked from her lungs “...sure you get ten outta ten on the gross factor, but it’s just a little bit too ‘Walking Dead' for my liking you know...” She taunted her opponent, as the two circled each other once again. “Maybe next time you should try going for something, I don’t know, a bit more... original?”

“You people talk too much” Kuasa almost snarled, as she pounced on Sara once again.

Sara stood her ground and allowed the woman to get into her personal space, counting on her fury to be her undoing. Even as she parried one blow with her right hand and took a hefty backhand to her face, unseen she slipped the dagger into her left and then whipped the blade up under Kuasa's right arm, slicing across with all her strength.

Slicing through water, and then air, as her opponent melted to the floor, trickling away.

“ _Dammit_ ” She shouted aloud, her frustration getting the better of her as she wiped a trickle of blood off her cheek from the stinging cut Kuasa had left there.

But it seemed that Sara had managed to inflict her own damage to the water woman after all, as a drop of blood slid down from the point of her knife.

She crouched low, edging round in a tight circle, not wanting to be caught off guard when her adversary finally rematerialized. She gripped the cutlass and dagger tightly in her hands, the pain of her previous injuries pushed away to the back corner of her mind.

“Very quick” The silky voice was right by her ear, “But not quick enough.”

Sara spun on the spot to locate its owner, but already her right arm was trapped in a vice-like grip, and as the woman twisted it painfully, her cutlass dropped to the floor from her nerveless fingers.

Without even thinking she threw her head backwards, and was rewarded with the satisfying feeling of the fragile bones of her opponent’s nose breaking beneath it. Even as stars erupted in her own vision with the impact. Her arm was suddenly free, and the growl that was uttered behind her made it worth it.

Before her vision had time to clear Kuasa was in front of her once more, her nose streaming blood down to her chin. Sara reacted on instinct as she blocked first one punch, then another. But she couldn’t keep it up, Kuasa was too fast, too fluid, and she found herself being pushed steadily back as more and more strikes made contact with her body.

The heal of Kuasa's hand connected violently with Sara’s solar plexus. The force of the hit sent her flying backwards, her head rebounding off the floor as she landed heavily on her front a few feet away. Winded and dizzy, she tried desperately to push herself up, but a booted foot connected with her stomach and she found herself sprawled on the floor once more, her ribs screaming in protest.

Before she was even able to make an attempt at getting to her feet for a second time, her head was wrenched violently back. Kuasa's face swam in front of her, a mocking grin plastered across it.

“A shame, Damien had wanted the pleasure of killing you himself. He'll get over it”

And then Sara felt a rush of water fill her nose and mouth, icy cold. She was choking, trying desperately to clear her lungs, to get the slightest bit of air passed the living fluid that was flooding in. Her body writhed uselessly on the floor as her vision started to tunnel.

The sounds around her seemed to intensify. She could here every pop of the automatic machine gun fire, deafening in the oxygen starved void of her mind. She could hear the rasp of steal on steal. The grunts of exertion, the cries of pain. The whimper of a man laying nearby, dying on the deck. She could hear the deep bellowing voice of the pirate captain, shouting encouragement to his men.

And then there was nothing. Everything was muffled to the point of silence, as though she truly were underwater. From the grey haze of her vision, she saw a hand reaching out to her. The hand of death, come to reclaim her soul...

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the water retreated and she could breath again, great big gasping lungful’s of air.

As her vision cleared, she looked up to see her slender pirate, Sara's forgotten cutlass in hand, furiously hacking away at her would be killer.

Even as Sara pushed herself to her knees with a pitiful groan, she watched as Kuasa easily disarmed her saviour and plunged the sword through his abdomen, before withdrawing it and throwing the slight man through the air to land in an unmoving heap towards the stern of the ship, just by the cargo boxes where her and Ray had talked earlier.

“ _No_...” She roared, and with a surge of strength, pushed herself up and staggered over to where the man lay bleeding out.

From the top of her field of vision she saw Kuasa advancing on them, but then a full-sized Ray emerged out of nowhere, drawing the woman's attention. Trusting her team mate to hold the water witch off, Sara turned her attention to the fallen pirate in front of her.

He was still alive, that much was clear from the gurgling sound of his rapid, shallow breathing. His hat had come off at some stage, and as she gently rested the man's head in her lap, she untied the bandana around his face.

Her heart jumped painfully in her chest.

What she had taken to be a young man on the edge of puberty, wasn't a man at all, but a heartbreakingly familiar woman.

“ _Jesus... Amaya_..?” She stuttered as she gaped at the face of her friend. Now so pale in comparison to normal.

“What..? _How_..?” She couldn’t speak, couldn’t form thoughts in her head let alone put words into a sentence. How was Amaya here? Why was she? And why had she been looking at her with such hostility? There were too many questions, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that she was here, and she was losing too much blood.

She found the wound and pressed down hard, trying valiantly to stop the bleeding. It covered her hands in seconds, slick and warm.

The woman’s eyes fluttered open.

“ _Amaya_! It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. Just... just _hold_ _on_ alright. We’re gonna get you out of here.” She knew that she had failed to disguise the terror in her voice.

“ _RAY_...” She practically screamed into her com. She looked wildly about her. In time to see the man in question come crashing heavily into the crates at her side.

“You called?” He groaned groggily, sitting up and rubbing his head. He looked just about as battered as she felt.

And then he clearly became aware of his surroundings, and just who exactly it was that was laying at his feet.

“Amaya!” He exclaimed, eyes wide and fearful.

The woman's eyes opened again, filled with pain and fear. Her skin was too clammy and her lips tinged with a bluish discolouration.

“No...” The woman whispered, her voice so brittle that Sara had to strain to hear her. “I...am... Nomusa.”

She pointed to her chest before she slipped into unconsciousness.

Sara and Ray looked at each other.

“That’s not Amaya? But then I suppose it makes sense, in a way... when we encountered Martin's great, great grandfather, he looked almost exactly like Martin. And these anachronisms do tend to have an odd way of being connected to us...”

Somehow, despite everything going on around him, Ray still managed to sound enthusiastic, like it was all just some great riddle for him to solve.

“ _Not_ the time Ray.” She shouted, urgency in every fibre of her being. “I need you to fly her back to the Waverider. _Now_.”

The man in the suit wasted no time gathering up the woman who called herself Nomusa, the woman who looked the spitting image of their team mate, off the floor and into his arms, before bending his knees slightly and taking flight. Pushing the limits of his speed in an attempt to get her the medical assistance she so desperately needed.

Sara put a hand to her head as she was left alone on the deck of the ship.

She looked about her, convinced their cover would be well and truly blown. But the mist was still heavy, and the men she could make out were all engaged in their own bitter battles, the fight to the death against the dead.

She spun around, searching, but Kuasa was no where in sight.

“ _Huh_?” She mused aloud. Surely the water witch wouldn’t back down now, not when she so clearly held the upper hand.

But then out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. She turned to see a transparent Kuasa solidifying. Even as she watched, the woman seemed to flicker, as if not entirely real. There was a look of confused horror in place on her normally inscrutable features.

Something clicked into place in Sara's scrambled brain.

She walked towards her enemy, exuding a calm and confidence she didn’t quite feel.

“I _really_ hate to break it to you... but _that_ woman,” Sara smiled humourlessly, “...she’s your great, great, great-whatever-grandmom.”

She paused waiting a moment for the penny to drop.

“I mean, totally, well played. You just _killed_ yourself. Which, sorry to say; not that sad about... _Except_ , that means you also killed my friend...” Her voice had become low and menacing as she advanced forward, all expression dropping from her face. “... And now, I’m gonna find a way to make you pay for that.”

She took up a fighting stance.

Kuasa made a snarling sound that went right through Sara. The woman took a threatening step towards her, but even as she did, she became transparent once more, to the point that Sara struggled to see her beneath the mist still swirling about the ship.

They stood only feet apart. Eyes locked in a deadly staring match. Sara could feel the hatred in those eyes, burning her. Calling to her.

And then she was gone, sliding away in a puddle of water.

All about the ship, the pirates had rallied and were beating back the dead army.

She saw a man on the deck of the ghost ship, thin and cruel looking, with a pointed face, narrow goatee and twirling moustache. He looked sallow, his skin waxy, but otherwise intact. There wasn’t the abundance of rotting flesh that marked the other passengers of the phantom vessel. Sara couldn’t quite work out if he too was one of the undead, or if that was just his unfortunate complexion.

Regardless of her other impressions of him, he was evidently the captain of the ship, and as she watched, she saw him issue a command, and his monstrous crew began to fall back. Retreating in a haphazard manner back the way they had come.

She saw more than a few of them go down under a hail of gunfire. The grizzly bodies convulsing as they were pumped full of lead before finally hitting the deck and becoming still.

The ghost ship was already backing away before all its crew could make it back on board. The handful that remained seemed lost. Throwing themselves against the broken railings and disappearing into the dark waters below. Or wandering aimlessly in circles until they could be picked off, one by one.

Sara felt herself sag as the energy left her. The effects of the battle catching her up. Her head was pounding and her mind still felt foggy and slow. She found her pouch of coca leaves and stuffed a handful into her mouth against the nausea she could feel churning in her stomach. But the bitter taste was too much and she retched over the rails, hoping this time no one was paying her any attention.

When she finished, she made her way tiredly over to where Blackbeard was stood mid-ship. With every step a burning poker stabbed between her ribs, and she felt as though she couldn’t catch her breath through the pain. Slowly she catalogued her injuries, trying to determine which ones were serious.

There was nothing that would kill her. Taking as deep a breath as her fractured ribs would allow and holding it in her chest, she focused on the worst of her agony, gathering it up. Then she exhaled, releasing all the pain of her injuries out of her body in the same breath. A technique taught to her early on in her training with the league.

She repeated the motion twice more, until her torment barely registered and was little more than a niggling discomfort. After all, the pain she was in today was nothing compared to the pain she had to endure before.

By the time she made it over to Blackbeard, she was stood tall once more.

The large man looked wild. Covered in blood and gore and clumps of rotten meat. She must look the same. Even as the crew cheered to their victory; letting insults fly as fast as their bullets as the dark hull retreated, Blackbeard turned to her, his expression grim.

“I’ve seen that ship before. It is ‘ _The Flail of the Spaniards_ '; a bad omen. There is only one man that sails it; his name is L'Olonnais.”

They stood together, silent observers, watching as the beast that had attacked them became little more than a dot on the horizon, moving away with an unnatural speed.

It only then occurred to Sara that the sun was once again beating down on them from a cloudless blue sky.

***

By the time she got back to the Waverider, Sara had worked herself up into quite the state of rage. It burnt through her pain and exhaustion and fear.

She was terrified that she would get back to find Nomusa dead and Amaya gone. The thought simmered away, eclipsing all else within the darkness of her mind. She blamed herself. She raged against her impotence, against her weakness. Over how she had allowed herself to be so resoundingly beaten by Kuasa. _Again_. And now Amaya was paying the price.

For a time that thought dominated all else, but little by little, another thought edged its way in, equalling the intensity of the first, and fuelling the fire of her fury and her pain.

“ _Damien Darhk sends his regards_ ”

So Darhk wasn't coming then.

All the planning, all the endless debating round and round in circles. All the sleepless nights. And all for nothing.

She would not be getting the chance to make the man hurt the way he had hurt her. And that knowledge ate away at her until she longed to send her fist flying into the nearest tree.

Somehow she managed to find the restraint within herself; she focused on her pain and she carried on her way.

***

“Whoa, no offence Sara but you look like shit”

Sara was greeted by Zari, as she stalked down the corridor of the Waverider. The woman seemed to fill the space in the hallway, and it took all Sara had not to barrel on through.

“And what’s that smell?” Zari continued, turning her nose up. “Is that... gone off meat?” She retreated back a step.

Sara ignored her observations.

“Where’s Amaya? Is she okay?” She demanded of the newest member of her team.

The woman visibly bristled at Sara's tone, but evidently decided to let it slide based on the captain’s obvious worry.

“In the med-bay with Nomusa... Gideon said it’s not looking good, _so_....”

Sara's stomach dropped out at the words of the futuristic woman.

“Maybe you should like, go change or...” Zari started but Sara was already pushing past her.

“Or whatever...” Zari trailed off, aware she was now talking to herself.

***

“How is she?”

Sara charged into the med-bay.

The occupants of the room who were still alert, as one, started at her brusque appearance.

Nomusa was strapped to one of the chairs, unconscious. There was a healing band round her wrist, delivering a concoction of different drugs, and a pale blue light was focused over the woman's abdomen, her shirt and breeches still stained with her life’s essence. Next to her was a monitor with all of her vital signs flashing up on screen. Sara didn’t even start to try to make out what it all meant.

In a chair next to her, was Amaya. Sara inhaled sharply at the sight. She was awake, but looked pale and gaunt, and like her granddaughter earlier, she was flickering ominously, the light from her body fading in and out.

Nate stood next to Amaya. He was holding her hand as best he could, gently running his thumb over the back of it in a soothing pattern. There was a look of complete devastation on his face. He looked like he had aged twenty years since Sara had last seen him. There was nothing of the passion and energy she had come to associate with the man. That she had come to take for granted. It seemed he barely registered her presence.

The only other occupant of the room was Ray, who was hovering over her pirate holding a tablet, looking worried. His face was marked with cuts and bruises and he was holding his left arm gingerly. He was the only one in the room who seemed capable of holding a conversation with her.

“ _Well_?”

She demanded, feeling marginally guilty at the puppy-dog look the man shot her way.

“Well they’re both still alive” Ray was wide eyed as he spoke “for now...”

He physically retreated at Sara’s almost growl at the uselessness of his information. She could clearly see with her own eyes that they were currently still alive.

“Maybe Gideon could fill you in a little...” He paused, waiting on the voice of the AI. After a moment he frowned when the help he requested never materialised.

“Ah Gideon, a little assistance please?”

“Very well Dr Palmer... Our patient, Nomusa Iwu, has sustained a depressed skull fracture and subsequent subdural bleeding. She has also lost a significant amount of blood from the wound to her abdomen, and was in advanced stages of shock by the time Mr Palmer brought her here. Unfortunately that lead to multiple organ failure. I have stopped the bleeding, and am attempting to repair her organs. I have also placed her in an induced coma to allow her brain the chance to heal.

“Despite my efforts, I’m sorry to say that Ms Iwu's chances of survival remain slim.”

Sara pinched the bridge of her nose. Gideon’s words being everything she feared. Still, there was much to do, and as the Captain, she must see it done.

She sighed, long and deep.

“Thank you, Gideon” She eventually replied. “Have you been able to find anything out about our guest?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. In the altered timeline, the Anansi Totem went missing from Ms Iwu's village. Without it, she was unable to protect her people, and when the slavers came, many men, women and children were taken.

“It appears that the ship Ms Iwu was on was boarded and seized by the pirate known as Calico Jack. I can’t find any record of what happened to the crew, but it is believed many of the would be slaves joined the pirates when given a chance.”

Gideon paused, giving the captain the chance to catch up.

Sara rubbed at her eyes, her headache increasing with the information she had to process.

“Okay, well that explains what she was doing in the temple then...” She mused to herself. “But why was she disguised as a man?”

“It was actually common practice for women to dress as men in order to be accepted onto ships and live their lives as pirates. It’s fortunate for you, Captain Lance, that Blackbeard appears to be much more accepting of women at sea than many of his contemporaries.”

Sara nodded, mulling it over.

“I think I should point out, Captain, that the anachronism has escalated. It has now reached level 8 status.” Gideon interrupted her thoughts.

“ _Of course_ it has.” Sara groaned to herself. “Gideon, could you please have everyone assemble on the bridge in half an hour?”

“Certainly, Captain.”

“That includes you too Nate” She spoke directly to the man still hovering by his ex-girlfriends side, who appeared not to have been paying attention to anything that had just occurred.

He looked up sharply at Sara's words. There was a look in his eyes that she wasn't custom to seeing on the notoriously up-beat man. The look of despair and defiance.

“Oh _hell_ no! Sara I’m not leaving Amaya.”

Sara felt guilty but she needed his expertise.

“I’m sorry Nate, I am... but there’s nothing you can do here. And I need your help on this.”

Amaya’s eyes fluttered open and she looked briefly to Sara before settling on the historian.

“It’s okay, Nathaniel. Sara’s right, you should go. The team needs you...” She spoke softly. The ‘ _more than I do_ ’ remained unsaid. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Nate smiled at her with as much warmth as he could muster. “Sure you will.”

They all knew it was a lie. A false promise. That was down to the comatose woman next to them, and whether or not she had the strength to survive.

Sara thought back to the events of the day, the ones that felt an eternity ago now. She thought back to the challenging eyes of the woman dressed as a boy. She thought back to a heavy chest, lifted with ease. The courage of a pirate disobeying their captain to go off on their own personal mission. And she thought of the woman who had jumped headfirst into a fight she knew she could not win, who risked _everything_ to save the life of a stranger.

Sara had to force down the tears that threatened to spring to her eyes. She cleared her throat.

“Look, this woman... she’s strong... She saved my life. She’s like you, Amaya. She's a survivor. She’s gonna fight this, and you are _both_ gonna be okay. And that one’s an order, alright?” She took her friends other hand in her own. Just for a few seconds. Squeezing. Trying to convey strength, courage, honesty. Trying to convey everything. Then it was too much and she let go.

“Half an hour. The bridge.”

She looked first to Ray, still fussing with something or other, trying to look busy but only managing to look awkward.

“Yes Captain.”

She then looked at Nate, who still only had eyes for Amaya. The woman once again appeared asleep. Her energy drained with her ancestors fight for survival.

“ _Nate_?”

“Whatever.” He muttered, without looking up.

“Just be there.” She ground out through gritted teeth.

With that she swept out of the room, lest her anger cause her to say something she would regret. Highly likely given her recent form.

***

She made her way down the shiny corridors of the Waverider, so different to the creaking moulding planks of wood of the ship that she had spent the last few hours aboard.

She felt unsteady. Off-balance. The walls seemed to close in on her as she walked. A pervading sense of claustrophobia unsettled her. Her mind felt jumbled with all the different pieces of information, with the thousand different worries she had to juggle. And all the while she could feel her fury sizzling, simmering away, barely suppressed.

She desperately needed a good night’s sleep. She could use a good workout, but there was no time for that. She could also use a good drink; there would be time enough for that later.

She found herself outside a room that wasn’t her own.

She hovered by the door, feeling foolish. She hadn't allowed herself to go in since its previous occupant had left, weeks ago now. So much had happened since then. There was so much she needed to talk to him about.

She felt a lump form in her throat.

“ _Jax_ ” She whispered “ _Why'd you have to leave, you jerk_?”

For so long he had been the one she turned to. Her moral compass. The guy that told her how it was, not what she wanted to hear. Her unexpected second in command. And without him she was falling apart.

Her hand was almost over the swipe to unlock the door. It froze mid air. She made a tight fist, her swollen knuckles straining painfully at the action. With a sigh she brought her hand down to her side, and swatted carelessly at a lone tear that had escaped her eye.

Getting herself together, she turned and continued on her way. There was no point dwelling on the past. She had too much to do. The first of which being to shower and change into something that didn’t still have the remains of rotting flesh clinging to it. Then she had to brief her team, come up with an action plan, before she could finally get herself back out there, have a drink, and hopefully get to kick some more dead pirate butt.

***

“So according to Blackbeard, this new pirate's name is L'Olonnais. Or at least, it was. He was on board a... _ghost ship_. Like seriously, it looked like it was an actual shipwreck, and his crew... were dead. As in _corpses_.” She almost rolled her eyes at how crazy she sounded.

“Zombies!” Mick cut in. “Grrrnnn... I hate zombies.”

“You don’t _actually_ expect us to buy that you were fighting zombies, do you? I find it far more plausible that you were at the pirates rum, _again_. Captain.” Leo smirked at her.

Sara glared at the man who dared to call her out in front of her crew, even as part of her filled with shame knowing he wasn’t entirely far off the mark.

Ray cut in before she had a chance to respond.

“No. She’s telling the truth. It was like ‘Night of the Living Dead’ out there.”

“‘Night of the...’ _awesome_ reference bro...” Nate mumbled, slightly lacklustre, but still bestowing his beaming friend with a high five.

“ _Eugh_ ” Mick shuddered.

“Thank you, Ray. Okay, so now we've established I’m not drunk or crazy...”

She was once again cut off by Leo who had his hand half raised in the air as if to validate his intrusion.

“Incorrect Captain Lance... we established that your zombies are real... not that you’re not drunk or crazy.”

She had an overwhelming impulse to forcibly wipe the condescending smile off his face. At the other side of her she heard Zari snicker loudly.

Her blood began to boil.

“So what does this... Bolognaise... want anyway.”

Sara spun to face Mick, her eyebrows knit together and eyes narrowed; the beginnings of a confused pout on her lips. The rest of the team seemed equally as bewildered.

“I don’t think now's the right time to be thinking about food buddy.” Nate was first to comment as he slapped Mick on the shoulder.

“Yeah, as much as I could totally go for a good bolognaise, he’s right. And also, Sara looks kinda mad.” Zari stage whispered across to the thief, making sure the entire room was able to hear.

“ _No_!” Mick growled “Mayonnaise... or... Hollandaise.... grrr whatever” He grouched, giving up on getting his dim-witted crewmates to understand what he meant and taking a good swig on his beer instead.

“Oooh, you mean L'Olonnais?” Nate guessed.

“Yeah him, guy with the name of a French sauce”

“Right. Exactly Mick.” Sara once again took over. Trying to get the conversation back on track, away from food, and her recent drinking habits. “Now my best guess... He’s after the weapons. And he had Kuasa with him. So it looks like for some reason Mallus wants him to find them.”

“Okay well that’s not good.” Nate added ominously.

“Blackbeard may have a fierce reputation, but that’s pretty much all it is, when it comes down to it, he’s actually a pretty decent guy... for a pirate anyway.” He clarified, finally seeming more like himself; the excitement at being able to lecture the others on something historical shining through his gloom.

“Now L'Olonnais, is a _completely_ different story. Every horror story you ever heard about pirates can probably be traced back to him. He was notorious for exceptional cruelty. And I mean seriously, this guy makes Charles Manson look like Mrs Doubtfire, and not for the cross-dressing and cardigans. I’m not kidding, L'Olonnais was reported to have once _literally_ ripped a guys heart out of his chest. And then ate it.” He paused to gag a little and look around the room to see the effect his words were having on the others.

“Correct, Mr Heywood.” The chirpy voice of the AI chimed in. “Although the story of him eating a human heart is unsubstantiated, it is true that he engaged in routine torture just for fun. I believe the word sadist would be an accurate description.”

“Okay, good to know” Zari deadpanned, “But that still doesn’t explain why Mallus wants him to get his hands on the weapons.”

“Well the other thing about L'Olonnais, is that he was possibly _the_ most successful pirate to ever roam the seas. Seriously, he totally makes Blackbeard’s deeds look like child’s play.” Nate finally took a pause for breath before continuing in his usual rapid fluency. “He commanded over seven _hundred_ men at the height of his powers, and organised a multitude of land attacks as well as sea. If he were to get his hands on those weapons, he wouldn’t just be content to settle with a pirate kingdom in the Caribbean and a little disruption on world trade. We’d be looking at New Valhalla 2.0. And probably a much more bloodthirsty version.”

“ _Okay_...” Sara mused aloud after the historian had finished filling them in on everything L'Olonnais, “...So. We need to get rid of these weapons _before_ old French sauce and his merry band of the walking dead get their hands on them.”

“Right.” Mick agreed. “About these _zombies_...can they... _turn_ people?”

“Ah yes, Mick here has had rather a bad experience with zombies... And turning into one.” Ray explained for the benefit of Zari and Leo, and anyone else who may have forgotten. “At least this time poor Martin isn’t here to get the fright of his life...” The scientist stopped abruptly, realising just what he said. He stood there with his mouth hanging open and a look of horror in his wide eyes.

Sara heard herself give a choking cough, even as the room seemed to freeze. No one knowing how to respond to Ray’s faux pas.

It was Nate, in the end, who reassured the floundering man, clapping a hand on his shoulder and giving a slight massage.

“It’s okay man...”

It wasn’t okay. Sara could feel her heart pounding, and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from snapping at her friend. The man who only today had saved her life. To stop herself from literally tearing the pitiful, vulnerable expression right off his face.

The unexpected thought made her start. Where the hell did _that_ come from? Her head suddenly felt like it was tearing apart and her vision swam with the sudden pain. She held onto the centre console tight until eventually it passed, leaving a heavy ache in it’s place. She made a mental note to try and remember to have Gideon check her out after all. Surely these migraines couldn’t be normal.

When her vision restored, she became aware the rest of the Legends were looking at her, with a mixture of expressions on their faces. From concerned, to confused, to distaste, to apathetic.

“ _What_?” She bit out, trying desperately to regain some form of equilibrium.

“Um, nothing, you know... just Nate asked you a question and then you didn’t respond to any of us for like, a full minute...” Zari supplied.

“Are you okay Sara?” Ray’s concerned face hovered in front of her own. “Did you get Gideon to look at that head injury of yours yet?”

“Yeah, good luck with _that_ ” Zari snorted before Sara had a chance to respond.

“Huh, you knew about her head injury? And what do you mean by ‘ _good luck_ ’?” Ray was bemused by the woman’s response.

“Yeah, I was there when it happened, but you’re wasting your breath if you think you can talk her into getting it looked at. Believe me, I tried.”

“Hello, I _am_ right here” Her palms had started sweating and she felt her chest constrict painfully. It was pathetic, but she couldn’t help but get the feeling her team was ganging up on her.

“Actually, Captain Lance has sev...”

“ _Captain Lance has nothing_ ” Sara roared, cutting the AI off before she had the chance to betray her. “Can we _please_ just get back to the zombie pirates? Or does anyone else want to offer their opinion on my health and well-being? Leo? How about you? Nothing to add?”

“I think this little outburst...” he gestured with a pointed finger, drawing a tight circle “speaks for itself”

He stood there, leaning against the wall as if he didn’t have a care in the world, while Sara’s entire posture was tight; her jaw clenched painfully and her hands balled into fists. He looked almost coy, as if she was playing right into his hands.

With a massive effort she forced herself to relax. It seemed she was forever forcing herself to relax these days. She unclenched her fists and took a deep breath. The spike of pain in her ribs reminding her of what truly mattered.

“Thank you all for your concern, but I’m fine...

“Now back to the anachronism. I’m sorry, Nate, what did you ask me?

“Right... um... just if you had any idea if the zombies could turn people.”

She thought for a second, turning the question over in her mind.

“I don't think so. They weren’t really zombies, you know, they weren’t trying to eat us. Just kill us normally. And anyway, bringing back the dead is kinda Mallus’ thing. Rip didn’t say anything about Mallus being able to create actual zombies.

“And I wasn’t even sure if L'Olonnais was even dead. From what I saw he looked normal... well, normal-ish”

“Oh he’s dead alright. He was captured and eaten by cannibals years ago.”

“Eww.” Sara pulled a face at Nate’s words. “Okay, new plan. We need to take care of the weapons, eliminate L'Olonnais, and get Blackbeard back to wherever the hell it is he’s supposed to die, all by tomorrow.”

“Pretty much...”

“Sounds about right...”

“mmmm...”

All echoed out from different quarters of the bridge.

“So. We know where Blackbeard is, and we know where the weapons are. And we can assume that L'Olonnais is gonna show up at some stage for either the weapons or Blackbeard.” She gave voice to her thought process.

“Ray, Zari and Mick. I need you to take the Waverider back to the island and deal with the weapons. If L'Olonnais shows up, blow him up too. He and his crew are dead already so there’s no danger of altering the timeline from a little bit of mass destruction.”

“Cool.” Mick approved.

“I’m gonna go back into town and stick with Blackbeard, keep an eye on him, and just in case French sauce decides to show up there instead...”

“Oh I’ll bet you'll keep a close eye on him” Zari winked.

“You do know you can’t keep him...” Leo pushed as the two shared a smirk between them. It seemed something of a friendship had sprung up between the two who shared a dry sense of humour.

She tried not to let the comments get to her.

“Okay, firstly... so not gonna happen. Secondly, I have no intention of ‘keeping him’. But if I did then it wouldn’t be the first time someone destined to die had been brought onto this team.

“Anyway, Leo, you’re with me. If you think you can handle it?”

“Aye Aye, Captain”

“And Nate...” He looked up at her with a pleading expression on his face.

“I need you to stay with the ship and monitor the coms from here.” She instructed.

It was a lie, really. She needed him with her. If nothing else, to stop her from killing Leo if the man didn’t stop with his continuous barbs. But, to be honest, she was really done with fighting her crew. And even if she forced him to come, his mind would be back here anyway, and he would just end up being a liability.

A grateful grin broke out on his face.

"Yes! Thank you! You are _literally_ the best captain _ever_ " He enthused. Only just stopping short of pulling her into a hug. He clapped her on the shoulder instead and she couldn’t quite manage to stop the wince from showing on her face.

“Keep us updated with how she’s doing okay?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright people... Let’s go save time..!”

***

Gideon brought the Waverider down low, hovering just over the temple hiding the weapons, using the coordinates logged from the Captain and scientist’s earlier mission. It didn’t look quite as impressive in the dark, Ray thought.

He, Mick and Zari were sat in their respective chairs on the bridge. The others were all out fulfilling their own parts of the plan.

“Well there doesn’t seem to be any sign of our Mr Mayonnaise and his gang anyway.” Zari observed.

“Gideon, can you confirm that please?” Ray asked the AI cordially.

“Ms Tomaz is correct. The island appears to be completely deserted.”

“Are we gonna blow this place up, or what?” Micks eyes were alight. The criminal was always so impatient when it came to big explosions. And creating them.

“Hold up a minute...” Zari stalled, and Ray felt his heart sink knowing what was coming. Some loophole, or side mission, or some other way to disobey commands just enough to land him in hot water with Sara.

“The Captain told us to deal with the weapons. She didn’t tell us how to go about doing that, or that we have to blow them all up.”

“Zari, I really don’t think that...” Ray began but he was cut off.

“Ray just hear me out okay. From what you said, there’s some serious fire power down there. And not only that but you also found the spirit totem. Who knows what else might be hiding down there. We’re going up against the Darhk’s, Kuasa and Mallus, who is an _actual_ demon. I think we need all the help we can get.”

“Future chick's got a point.”

“Thanks, I think”

“I don't know... I think Sara’s orders were pretty clear.”

“Gideon, run a scan of the weapons inside the temple please.”

“As you wish, Miss Tomaz.”

“Come on Ray, it’s not gonna hurt to run the scan, and then we at least know what we’re dealing with...” She reassured the man who looked so nervous at the thought of disobeying his precious Captain.

“And anyway, the Captain hasn’t exactly been herself lately... Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed it too...” She forestalled the denial she saw creeping onto Ray's face. “There’s something going on with Sara, and no offence, I don’t exactly have that much faith in her decision making ability right now...”

“What’s going on with Sara?”

A familiar stern voice cut through any reply the men might have wanted to make.

The three Legends spun round, startled at the unexpected intrusion.

In front of a closing portal, dressed in regulation crisp blue blazer and neatly pressed shirt and trousers, stood Agent Ava Sharpe. A tiny frown line crossing her features as she spoke, folding her arms across her chest; the picture of impatience. Just behind her stood Gary, fidgeting nervously on the spot, and two other agents they hadn’t seen before.

“Agent Sharpe?!”

“Time dweebs”

Ray and Mick exclaimed at the same time.

“Legends.” She greeted back in a monotone voice, effectively hiding any emotion she might be feeling. “Well? Does one of you want to fill me in on what, exactly, is going on with Captain Lance, and why you believe you can no longer trust in her decisions?”

“Err, nothing...” Ray answered too quickly. “Sara's fine...” He smiled, trying to look reassuring, but it really just came across as slightly panicked. “Zari's just being crazy.”

“Yeah... you know me. I'm pretty crazy.” Zari added dryly.

Ava narrowed her eyes at the trio, clearly not buying the cover story for a second.

“What...err, what are you doing here anyway?” Ray changed the topic.

Ava sighed, trying to ignore the pit of worry that had opened up in her stomach from the minute she stepped foot onto the timeship. It seemed that the Legends were going to stick together in this. Well she would get to the bottom of it in the end, one way or another. But for right now she had bigger fish to fry.

“We have come to assist you with your anachronism. We’ve been monitoring it’s status, and as predicted, since you arrived, it’s been getting _exponentially_ worse. Director Bennett has decided it’s time the Bureau steps in.” They were all looking at her with a mixture of wariness and disdain, and she couldn’t help but fall back on her go-to default of belittling the Legends with her words.

“Where is Captain Lance anyway?”

“I’m very sorry to interrupt...” Gideon sounded anything but, “I thought you would like to know that I have some bad news.”

“What is it Gideon?” Of all people, it was Ava who was the first to respond to the AI.

“Well it appears that half the weapons that were stored here have now been removed by L'Olonnais...” The very lifelike, and unsuitably chipper voice of the ships computer explained.

“What? How is that even possible..?” Zari exclaimed.

“What’s more, the anachronism has now updated to reach level 12 status...”

 


	8. Drink killdevil flips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little look back at the events proceeding Ava's arrival on the Waverider at the end of the last chapter. And then Sara and Leo get a chance to get some things off their chests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting this. 
> 
> I doubt it's worth the wait, and frustratingly it does literally nothing to advance the plot of the episode. 
> 
> I still hope you enjoy it though.
> 
> P.S. ignore the chapter title, it literally means nothing!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments on the previous chapter/s :)

  
_Ava yawned deeply as she sat at the desk in her office, rubbing her eyes as the text she was typing on the screen blurred into a incomprehensible jumble of words._

_It had been a tiring couple of days, dealing with a sensitive anachronism, one that had played on her conscience and tested her commitment to doing what was right to preserve time. That was, ensuring that a certain president still made it into office. And to ignore what her insides were screaming at her to do; to not let it happen._

_She still struggled with that aspect of the job, sometimes. Having the ability to change the timeline at her fingertips, to shape events for the better, and yet knowing that still she could not. That was where the Timemasters went wrong, trying to play god._

_She sighed._

_But, if she was honest with herself, that wasn’t really what was on her mind. What was currently occupying her thoughts, was the same thing, or person – she should say, that had been thoroughly dominating them for the past week or two._

_And that person was, of course, Sara Lance._

_After her ‘talk’ a few days ago with Director Bennett, she had convinced herself that she could ignore her feelings. That if she tried hard enough, focused enough of her time and energy on her work, and maybe even on her flagging social life, then just maybe she could live with them. After all, she'd managed all those years ago at the academy, when she had needed to forget about that one night, with her straight best friend, who had decided it would be ‘fun’ to experiment._

_But after their call yesterday morning, Ava had to admit there was barely a minute that went by that she wasn’t thinking of the walking calamity that was the leader of the Legends. And every time she did, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach going wild. And her heart seemed to swell within her chest to the point she was certain that she would end up having a premature coronary. It seemed to Ava that her poor heart was so full to the brim with that same emotion which had caused her such distress only a matter of days ago._

_Every time she pictured the hurt and pain she had inadvertently caused Sara, and the anger, she felt the shame wash over her anew. She knew just how hard the woman was battling against her bloodlust. The absolute last thing she wanted was to make that any harder than it clearly already was._

_And yet she had. Because she had been afraid. Afraid of losing her job. But more than that; afraid of getting attached. But the thought she’d had, the feeling, after their not quite date; it refused to go away. It was a seed that had taken root in her mind, and in her chest, and no matter how she tried to starve it, it grew and grew. It seemed it was far too late for not getting attached._

_And now there was another fear. The fear that she had blown it. That she had missed her opportunity to be with the one person that she really felt a connection to. The one person that had made her unconditionally happy, even if it was for a fleeting moment, without asking for anything in return._

_Because Sara had ignored her message..._

_***_

_After talking to Sara, Ava had barely been able to focus during the impromptu briefing the Director had tasked her to. But a seemingly endless three hours later, she exited the stuffy conference room with not just an overwhelming craving for caffeine, but a surprisingly clear head._

_She had pit-stopped at the cafeteria on her way back to the office. She let her hair down. Tried to make it bounce just right, before eventually giving up. Her heart was pounding as she fiddled with some pens and adjusted her chair. She walked the limited length of her office twice with sweating palms, before sitting back down and realising that she really hadn’t needed to adjust the chair at all in the first place._

_She told herself to get a grip. To stop acting like some teenager with her first crush. It wasn’t like that. Sara liked her too, she was sure of it. After all, the woman had kissed her twice. Had asked her to dance, twice. And clearly hadn’t been put off by her graceless moves and head-banging to Bohemian Rhapsody._

_She took a breath and held it. And dialled Sara's personal line to her office. There was no way she wanted to inadvertently have to converse with one of the other Legends. Not today._

_The line rang, and she was still holding her breath, and the line was still ringing. She exhaled sharply, feeling slightly dizzy, as she was left with the option to leave a message._

_She had ended the call. And then cursed. Tried to recompose herself, and then redialled. The line rang out as expected, and, desperately trying not to overthink it, or to look like the hot gay mess that she so clearly was, she hit ‘leave message’._

_There was no plan, no carefully constructed script for her to follow. All she wanted was to be honest. And so she had been. For the first time in a very long time, Ava Sharpe had bared her heart and soul._

_***_

_And she was still waiting for her reply._

_She tried not to read too much into it, even as her heart twisted in her chest. Because Sara was busy dealing with an anachronism. She probably just hadn’t got round to reading it yet._

_As the hours ticked by, and then the next day arrived, Ava had to admit that the chance that the other woman just hadn’t seen it was slipping away. Which meant not only did Sara not want to be with her, but that she thought so little of her that she couldn’t even take a few minutes out of her day to tell her that face to face._

_She’d had to physically restrain herself from calling the Waverider again. Because there was a small part of her that couldn’t believe Sara would do that to her. There must be another explanation. Sara was acting very strangely when they had spoken. And there was still that knot of worry in her chest that she couldn’t quite unravel._

_Perhaps the anachronism had gone south. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time._

_But she had tasked Gary to monitoring the status of the anachronism. And as much as he could be a bumbling idiot, she trusted him, and that was invaluable. And he was a bumbling idiot who was now becoming very suspicious of her, after she had checked in every half an hour for 3 hours that morning._

_The answer was always the same. The anachronism remained unchanged._

_She was actually relieved when Director Bennett ordered her off to assist with the same anachronism she had been required to give her expertise on yesterday. It finally gave her something else to focus on._

_And that all lead her to here. Alone in her office, and exhausted, both mentally and physically._

_Leaning back in her properly adjusted office chair, she allowed her eyes to momentarily drift closed. Just for one moment; she had far too much work to do to suffer the indignity of falling asleep at her desk._

_***_

_She was disturbed from her reverie by a light knock at her door._

_Ava’s eyes snapped open. She cleared her throat, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious that she had just been dozing._

_Before she had a chance to utter a response, the door swung open, and Ava’s mouth dropped in a very ungainly manner._

_“.... Sara! Wha... uh... what are you doing here?”_

_She stuttered awkwardly, trying to compose herself and get her sleep fogged brain back into gear._

_Of everything she had expected of her Tuesday evening, Sara Lance, stood at her office door dressed up in full pirate regalia, was definitely not it._

_“I watched your message. And I wanted to give you your reply...”_

_Sara's voice was low, and there was something intense in her eyes as she looked at Ava, who's mouth was suddenly very dry._

_She walked into the room and closed the door. The office instantly seemed about half it’s normal size._

_Somewhere in her mind Ava registered Sara’s outfit. The tight bodice and heavy eye makeup. Sword hanging from her waist and golden jewellery dripping from her neck to rest just above her cleavage.. She looked dangerous. It was possibly the sexiest thing Ava had ever seen._

_She felt herself flush, a deep crimson crawling up her neck to stain her cheeks. She struggled to piece together an adequate reply._

_But Sara didn’t seem to expect a response, at least not of the verbal kind anyway._

_All the while she was edging closer, pushing the boundaries of personal space. Ava's senses were engulfed by the other woman. She couldn’t take her eyes off her. Her scent, so uniquely Sara, seemed to surround Ava, wrapping her in a tender embrace._

_As she drew nearer, and Ava herself took an involuntary step forward as though driven by some magnetic force, she could hear the Captain’s deep laboured breathing, her breasts straining against the heavy material of the corset with the exertion. She saw the exact moment when it hitched, when Ava knew with an undeniable certainty where this would end up._

_“And I wanted to tell you that...”_

_Ava felt the tickle of air against her ear as Sara whispered,_

_“I want you too...”_

_She looked up at Ava through thick eyelashes, her eyes blazing, pulling Ava in._

_At the last moment, just before their lips met, Sara hesitated, waiting. The message was clear; this time, it was on Ava. They stilled, sharing the same air, breath mingling together in short rapid gasps. The inevitability of it struck her, and then she surrendered._

_And then she surged forwards. Capturing Sara’s lips with her own. Hungry. Devouring. She needed this woman; needed this. She didn’t know how she could have ever have thought otherwise. And Sara was kissing her back with an equal amount of fervour. Exploring Ava’s mouth with her tongue, claiming it for her own._

_It wasn’t enough. She needed more, they had waited so long already._

_They crashed against the wall, desperate hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, impatiently tearing at them in their haste to rid themselves of the unwelcome garments._

_Ava growled as the buttons of Sara’s corset stubbornly refused to come undone. Heat was pooling in her core, she could feel how wet she already was, the moisture gathering in her pants. The beast had been awoken, and it demanded gratification._

_She pushed Sara hard against the wall and stole the sword from about her waist. With a delicacy that belied her need, she severed the ties, one by one, painfully slowly._

_The bodice finally fell open, and the rapier clattered to the floor from Ava's nerveless fingers. She moaned, voice thick with arousal as she took a moment to shamelessly admire Sara’s full, flawless chest._

_She reached out, almost reverently, allowing the tips of her fingers to stroke the underside of one glorious quivering breast, soft under her callused hand. She swiped the pad of her thumb across the hard nub of her nipple, and revelled in the groan the movement elicited._

_The fire inside her flared._

_Their lips met once more, the urgency reignited. Her mouth trailed a path of desperate kisses down Sara’s neck, alternately nipping then sucking. She bit down hard just above her collar bone, marking the lightly freckled skin, so wonderfully delicate in contrast to the rest of her. Sara's hands gripped her hips, hard enough to bruise, and the moan that escaped her lips was pure ecstasy._

_Her mouth continued on its quest south. She could taste the faint traces of salt on her skin, bringing to Ava's mind a sudden vivid flash of white sandy beaches and crystal clear turquoise waters. There was also something else, something she couldn’t quite make out, and she came to the conclusion that she must be tasting Sara's own distinct flavour. Dangerously addictive._

_And then finally, she was able to encircle a hard pebbled nipple, stood to attention as though it had been waiting for her to do just this. She sucked hard, then flicked her tongue backwards and forwards across the erect nub in a rapid succession of strokes._

_She felt Sara’s body tremble under her ministrations._

_And then Sara was pulling her head back up, kissing her once more with a fiery passion, lips bruising and stealing Ava's breath away._

_The Captain pushed away from the wall, and Ava was forced to step back, her legs weak and trembling. The back of her thighs collided with the edge of her desk._

_With a hand that wasn’t grasping onto Sara for dear life, she reached out blindly and swept the tidy collection of items carelessly to one side._

_Pens clattered to the floor, bouncing up off the solid surface to roll and spin away in every direction. Papers fluttered into the air, floating down to land haphazardly about the room in a disorderly jumble._

_Ava barely noticed the mess she had created. She could care about that later. For now, she would tear the entire room down about them just for another few moments of bliss with this amazing woman._

_Strong arms encircled her and she found herself lying half across her desk, as determined hands peeled her trousers and pants down until they pooled about her ankles._

_Sara kissed down her body, the skin where she touched coming alive, sending electric impulses shuddering through her. She was so wet._

_Her body arched up off the table as Sara bit down hard on her upper thigh. So close to where she really needed her to be. She could already feel it, the tingling which stared in the tips of her toes, beginning to spread upwards. She could feel herself throbbing with desire as Sara brought her mouth closer._

_“Ava” the woman whispered against her, the thrill of the air against her sensitive clit almost making her come undone._

_“Agent Sharpe” Sara teased against her once more..._

 

“Agent Sharpe...”

Ava started awake with a jolt, jumping a couple of inches out of her chair. Around her the room was tidy. Her pens neatly in their pot and the papers still in an orderly pile on her desk. Sara, naked or otherwise, was nowhere in sight.

She was breathing heavily and she could feel her heart racing within her ribcage. She was painfully aware of the moisture between her legs; cruelly left unsated.

She almost groaned out loud, until she became aware of the source of her sudden awakening.

“Agent Sharpe... I’m s..sorry to disturb you...”

Gary Green stuttered from where he stood awkwardly peering around her office door.

Ava legitimately wanted the floor to swallow her, or at the very least a portal to hell to open up so she could crawl through to be alone with her mortification. She felt uncomfortably flushed as she tried to get her heartrate and breathing back under her control. She was certain that Gary must be able to smell the remainders of her arousal in the air.

She wondered how long he had been stood there, trying to get her attention. The thought was enough to cleanse her of any lingering desire.

What the hell was wrong with her? Having a sex dream about Sara Lance while at work. In her office. She decided she must officially be going crazy.

She cleared her throat and tried to sound business-like. Normal.

“What do you want Gary?”

He looked nervous, as always.

“I’m sorry Agent Sharpe... it’s j..just, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Legends anachronism as you asked me to. And, well, it’s getting worse! A lot worse actually.”

It took less than a second for his stumbling words to penetrate her mind. And when they did, all thoughts of her dream, and embarrassment, and the still present aching at her core were instantly forgotten, and she was once again all business.

She sat straighter in her chair.

“Tell me everything Gary.”

***

Sara and Leo made the short trek to Nassau mostly in silence. Sara was glad for it. Not that she especially wanted the time to dwell on her thoughts, but, she still felt riled up and was well aware of just how little provocation it would take for her to snap. And as dark and unpleasant as her thoughts might be, she would take those over saying, or doing, something she would live to regret.

Although the closer they got to the pirate stronghold, and the further from the Waverider, Sara began to feel the crushing pressure in her head and chest begin to lessen. A sensation of being free, in a way; free of duty and responsibility. Free from the knowledge of just how utterly she was screwing everything up. Free from fear. And most importantly; free from herself.

Which, she knew, was all a load of absolute shit. She was no less responsible just because she was dressed as a pirate heading down for an apparent night of drinking and debauchery. No less accountable for her failings. Yet the feeling remained, and grew stronger. And for the second time in as many days, she felt herself relax on this little island of aberrations.

She could feel Leo’s eyes on her. He had been shooting her surreptitious glances since they had left the Waverider, and despite her state of relative tranquillity, it was still beginning to wear her thin.

“You got something you want to say to me Leo, you should just come out and say it.” She eventually called him out.

“I was just thinking about my former doppelganger, the late Leonard Snart...” He began in that nasally voice, which sounded so much like the man he was referring to, and yet entirely different, “...and I was wondering if you were this cold towards him, or if that’s reserved specifically for me. I mean, I'm not one to complain about a little chill. But this...” He paused and gestured between them, “...is positively arctic.”

Sara's eyes snapped up to meet Leo's own in surprise, his words unexpected. He had managed to catch her off guard, and for a moment she could think of no reply.

“Leonard and I got on just fine.” She eventually offered. The statement, of course, completely inadequate to describe her friendship with the man, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to give this new Leonard, ‘Leo’, anything more.

She almost left it at that. She didn’t owe him anything after all. But then, this new relaxation she was feeling had cleared her head a little, and maybe this was the opportunity she needed, now it was just the two of them, to clear the air.

“But, you’re right... I _have_ been keeping my distance, and I’m sorry if that’s come across as cold. It’s just, you're really not very like him, at all, and... that makes it easier. Because there is no point getting to know someone when _you know_ you’ll just have to say goodbye...” She was ashamed to hear a quiver in her voice, and she shut off the emotion all at once.

“Besides...” She continued “I’d hardly say that you’ve been looking to make best friends with me, unless contempt and all round disapproval is what passes for friends where you're from.”

He inclined his head towards her.

“Touché, Captain Lance. But you see, where I’m from, you tell the people you care about when they’re being reckless and idiotic. And when they are behaving in a way that’s going to get themselves killed... something that your team here are clearly too scared to do. Or too oblivious.”

Sara felt herself immediately go on the defensive. But then Leo continued, and his words halted the feeling in it’s tracks.

“And maybe you’re not the only one who was expecting something different. You’re not much like her either, you know.”

“Wait...What?? You knew me? But how? I thought my dad said...”

She was cut off.

“...Did you really think your father would tell you the whole story? Come now Sara...”

“So, what... we were _friends_?”

“Not exactly. More like comrades... When your father found out that you, _she_ , enjoyed sleeping with women as much as men, he first tried to ‘fix’ her. She _was_ the apple of his eye after all. But when it became clear to him that wasn’t working, then he did try to kill her. But your sister managed to usher you away before he could finish the job. You, she, found her way to us, the resistance...

“Once she recovered from the injuries she suffered at the hands of her father, she pledged to join the resistance. Her inside knowledge proved invaluable. And she clearly inherited her father's tactical mind. She worked with us for many years. She even became a captain. That is until an incredibly dangerous opportunity presented itself to bring down your father and his associates. Rather than risk anyone else, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She was captured. And killed.”

He finished with a hint of sadness in his voice. It struck her just how many people he must've had to say goodbye to. And yet he still wanted to come here, to get to know her own rag tag team.

They had stopped walking. The sun was setting down into the sea, making the ripples of the horizon shimmer, as it’s final dazzling rays of light painted the shanty town in all the colours of a blazing fire. Leo's face seemed golden in the glow. It highlighted the soft lines, so full of emotion long since expressed, and in that second, it seemed to Sara that he himself were ephemeral, as fleeting as this one moment in time. Of this town full of cursed men and women.

He appeared to be observing her reaction closely, but allowed her the moment of private contemplation.

She became aware of herself once more. Of her purpose, and the niggling aches and pains that were her constant companions. She focused on them, tangible and real, as she set them back on their path. As they turned, Leo's face became shrouded in shadow; once more an inscrutable puzzle she would likely never solve.

“What was she like?” She eventually asked, her voice still a touch too soft for her liking. She strengthened her shield about her as he prepared his answer.

“She was fierce, and protective... like you. But there was something...” He paused for a moment, and Sara found herself holding her breath for the answer. Not that it should matter, not that it should have any bearing whatsoever, on anything at all. She held it anyway.

“She was open. She let people in. Soft in a way that seemed impossible for one raised by the right hand of the Führer himself. Soft without being vulnerable...”

“You sure you’re gay Leo? Sounds like you had a bit of a crush on ‘X’ me.”

“Believe me, you on any earth... definitely not my type.” He smirked.

Sara almost snorted at that.

“But...” He paused, looking off into the violet hues of the twilight sky. Then he turned to her with a sadness, of one imparting a knowledge they weren’t sure they should share. “She also seemed whole, in a way that you are not.”

His words, said so gently, struck her like a knife plunging into her chest. So even a world ruled by Nazi's, where hero’s became monsters and her own father had tortured and tried to kill her, even that world could produce a version of her that was light, and good, and _whole_. The knowledge hurt like an open festering wound.

She searched for the anger she was certain his words would have conjured, but for the first time it seemed elusive. And without it she felt naked. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he knew nothing of her or her life. But the words caught in her throat, and she was unable to give them voice.

They continued on in silence. Sara brooding and Leo still shooting her glances, awkward and worried, which she no longer appeared to heed. The laughter and merriment that filled the air, floating out of illuminated huts and rolling down sandy alleys, was at odds with their own sombre mood.

Eventually the Captain sighed, a heavy, weary exhalation.

“Leo?” Her voice was almost normal. If it surprised her companion, the shadows gathered at his face hid the expression well.

“Yes Captain?”

“I may not have said it yet, but thank you... for your assistance. And you may not think much of me or the way I lead this team...”

“Correct, Captain. At least with regards to how you and the Legends operate...” His forthrightness once again took her aback, so that she let the intrusion pass.

“...Drinking on missions, fraternising with the enemy. Allowing your soldiers to run wild. Where I’m from, every single one of the Legends would have been court marshalled several times over. My Captain Lance would rather have died than engage in even half of what you and your team get up to...”

Sara interrupted him then, more amused than outright angry.

“Well it’s a good job I’m not your Sara then. And this isn’t the military, or the Time Bureau. No one gets court marshalled here. Careful Leo, you’re beginning to sound like Ava.” She said, but there was a hint of a smile on her face, and a fondness in her voice that she couldn’t quite disguise as she spoke of the woman.

“Agent Sharpe?” Leo exclaimed with amusement lacing his tone as much as surprise. “She’s ‘Ava’ now is she?” He smirked knowingly.

“And you didn’t let me finish” He continued. “Because maybe _I_ am the one with the problem. This isn’t my earth. And perhaps I should stop expecting things to be the same. Your methods, as undisciplined and ineffectual as they may appear to me, incredibly, do seem to get the job done.”

He bestowed her with a small half smile which Sara returned with earnest. The tension between the two, for the moment, seemed to have dissipated.

“Thank you.” She offered.

They were almost at the main tavern. The crowd, if possible, seemed even larger, and even more inebriated than the previous day. There was an undercurrent of restlessness about the place. An intoxicating mix of excitement and apprehension. Word must have spread about their encounter with L'Olonnais and his unearthly crew.

“ _You know_...” Leo began again, this time conspiratorially, a note of teasing in his voice which automatically put Sara on her guard. “...Ava Sharpe fights for the resistance on my earth...”

“Really!” She exclaimed before catching herself and toning down her response to the appropriate levels of interest. “I mean, cool. I suppose.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Its funny, you always claimed to dislike each other, but she seemed _awfully_ sad when you were killed...” He had the audacity to wink at her.

She made a show of rolling her eyes at him. Even as a thousand questions churned in her mind, and her heart stuttered in her chest.

She had been trying not to think of Ava. Although that had proved an almost impossible feet. Everything reminded Sara of her in some way or other. Ava would enjoy this, or disagree with that. She would look hot in this, and hotter in that. Would tell her off for doing this, and be proud of her for not doing that.

She smiled a small sad smile. It was incredible just how much she wanted the Time Bureau agent. And just how painful it was that the feeling wasn’t returned.

And it was even more incredible to think of there being a world out there where her and Ava may have actually been together. Been happy. Even if it had all ended with her death...

“Captain Sparrow” A familiar voice boomed from beside her, interrupting her thoughts. “My men thought you had turned tail and fled after our little adventure today. I told them that the fearless Jac Sparrow would never be so timid. And it seems you have proven me correct.”

Blackbeard seemed larger than life as he beamed at her. Sara was a little taken aback by his reception. Even after the fight, she still hadn’t been entirely sure where she stood in his estimations. It came as a relief to find she was apparently back in his good graces.

She wondered if he wasn’t halfway to being blind drunk.

“A drink for my pirate queen and her crewman...” He barrelled unsuspecting patrons aside as he practically pulled her along in his haste to find her booze.

“Well, what do you say, Leo? A drink to celebrate our new accord?”

The man from another earth could only shrug his shoulders at her before tumblers overflowing with rum were pressed into their hands.

“To Captain Sparrow.” Blackbeard roared, raising his goblet high, “The most fearsome pirate the Caribbean has ever seen...”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh, really don't know how I feel about that one. 
> 
> I'm sorry for teasing you guys :-/ the reason I wrote it, if I'm honest, is because I really wanted to give you some AvaLance, as this ep has been so light on it, and they aren't due to meet up just yet. 
> 
> Please remember though, that this isn't the last episode of the series, there will be at least 4 more to come, and just because it's slow on AvaLance right now, it won't always be. Promise.
> 
> One other thing... 
> 
> As I was writing the scene with Leo talking about Earth X Sara, I just couldn't get it out of my head about her back story and meeting Ava and the 'relationship' they had, as well as her eventual death. 
> 
> And basically, I'm considering, when eventually I finish this series, that maybe I will write a new story or even series focusing on earth x Sara and Ava. Would anyone be interested in that at all? I mean, I'd prob write it anyway lol!!


	9. And Loud the Drunken Cheer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay once again in posting this chapter. 
> 
> We're getting near the end of this episode now. In fact I think this *should* be the penultimate chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and don't hate me too much at the end...

_“We have come to assist you with your anachronism. We’ve been monitoring it’s status, and as predicted, since you arrived, it’s been getting exponentially worse. Director Bennett has decided it’s time the Bureau steps in.” They were all looking at her with a mixture of wariness and disdain, and she couldn’t help but fall back on her go-to default of belittling the Legends with her words._

_“Where is Captain Lance anyway?”_

_“I’m very sorry to interrupt...” Gideon sounded anything but, “I thought you would like to know that I have some bad news.”_

_“What is it Gideon?” Of all people, it was Ava who was the first to respond to the AI._

_“Well it appears that half the weapons that were stored here have now been removed by L'Olonnais...” The very lifelike, and unsuitably chipper voice of the ships computer explained._

_“What? How is that even possible..?” Zari exclaimed._

_“What’s more, the anachronism has now updated to reach level 12 status...”_

 

“Okay... do we know the current position of this L'Olonnais? Or where he may be taking the weapons?” Ava ran a hand through her hair as she spoke.

The tension on board the Waverider was still uncomfortably thick. It hovered between them, permeating the air like a physical presence. It was clear to Ava, from the minute they had stepped on board - interrupting whatever disagreement had been taking place - that their presence was unwelcome. Without Sara around, the ship seemed a much more hostile place. She really wished she knew where the captain was.

“Gideon?” Ray prompted when the agent's question was met with silence. Gideon clearly not feeling obliged to provide the one time adversary of the Legends with an answer.

“I am afraid I'm unable to detect any trace of ' _The Flail of the Spaniards_ ', either in the vicinity of the island or the wider area, Dr Palmer.”

“Darn. I thought that might be the case...” Ray muttered.

The man looked awful, Ava observed with a touch of compassion. There were a collection of bruises marring the skin on his face, his lower lip was split and his left cheekbone was swollen and purple. And she had never heard him be anything other than annoyingly positive.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Haircut?” Mick Rory growled.

As usual he had a bottle of beer in his hand, and was slouching against the centre console. He managed to give the place the air of some seedy bar, rather than the command room of a timeship on an important mission. By this point Ava didn’t know if the utter disorganisation of Sara’s team made her want to smile or pull her hair out. Definitely pull her hair out, she decided, unsure why she would even consider the former an option.

“Just that when Sara and I were attacked by L'Olonnais and his zombie crew when we were on Blackbeard’s ship, it was as though they appeared out of thin air... which, they kind of did because it was so foggy, but it also wasn’t picked up by the sensors on my suit.” Ray explained. “Anyway, it got me to thinking, and using the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle I worked out that because the ship and everything on board are technically dead, they must be able to switch between localised and delocalised states much more easily than normal particles.” The scientist became excited as he got caught up in his explanation.

“Thanks Ray, I mean, that’s _so_ much clearer now.” Zari commented, pulling a face and rolling her eyes.

“Sorry... Basically, they seem to be able to phase in and out of existence. Like ghosts. Although ghosts aren’t real. I think.”

“Great. Zombie ghosts.” Rory grumbled.

“Zombie ghosts?” Gary stuttered behind her.

Even as Ava's rational mind rebelled against the very idea of ‘zombie ghosts’, something in her chest clenched painfully at the thought of Sara facing them. And if this was how Ray with his atom suit had fared... a sliver of fear slipped down her spine as she wondered again just where Sara was.

She released her hands from behind her back, where they had been tightly locked together in an apparent ‘at ease’ position, and walked forward into the room towards the centre console.

“And you’re certain you were facing ‘zombies’?’” She asked, trying to keep the scepticism out of her voice. She was only partially successful.

“They weren’t really zombies, just corpses that had been brought back to life; reanimated,” he pulled a face in distaste, Ava imagined he was probably reliving the horror of it. “There was a whole army of them. We suspect it’s the handiwork of Mallus...”

“Mallus!” Gary scoffed from where he still stood hovering at the edge of the room with the other agents. “There’s no evidence that Mallus is anything more than a figment of...”

He trailed off under the pointed stare Ava was shooting at him.

She shook her head sadly.

“No, Gary, Mallus is very real, unfortunately.” And then looking back to Ray she continued, “That would be my take on it too.” She validated the man’s theory, a serious expression on her face.

“Anyway, we should inform Captain Lance about this latest development... Where is she?” Ava was pleased to discover, at least, that her voice came out far more casual than she actually felt.

“Where I should be, now there’s no blowing stuff up happening here...” Mick answered unhelpfully, beating the others to it.

“Yeah about that... Gideon, did your scans of the temple pick up anything else?” Zari asked the computer, apparently not having any interest in answering Ava.

“Other than the weapons, there appears to be several relics dating back to 32AD which have largely been ignored by the pirates.”

“32AD..? That would mean...” Ray didn’t complete his thought, a look of contemplation on his face.

“Yes, Dr Palmer, the year of Christ's death. The relics are enclosed in a hidden chamber below the west wall, which appears to have several deterrents built into it.”

“Booby traps!” Micks eyes lit up.

“Maybe that’s what old Mayonnaise and his crew were trying to find...” Zari also looked excited, a determined set to her face. “Well that settles it, we're not blowing anything up until we at least go get these relics.”

Draining his beer, Mick grunted his agreement. It was only Ray who didn’t seem convinced. Something of a helpless look on his face.

Ava began to feel her irritation rising at her inability to obtain any answer as to what was going on. Before she could think to moderate her words, she cut through the debate of the three Legends, voice raised in frustration.

“No one’s going anywhere until someone gives me a sensible answer. Now, where the hell is Sara?”

***

Sara raised her glass for what felt like the hundredth time since her and Leo had been ushered into the cramped and rowdy establishment. Another thunderous cheer in celebration of their defeat over the dead pirates.

It was only just over a full day since they had last sat drinking in this very same bar, with these same men and women, but it felt like it could have been a lifetime ago, so much had happened in the meantime.

There was something easy about it; the pirate life, something simple. A short and dangerous existence, and these men and women knew it. And they took every opportunity they could for celebration, to drink until their worries were behind them. At least until the cold light of day.

And that was exactly what Blackbeard was doing, he would worry about L'Olonnais and his crew of dead men later. Tonight he and his men would celebrate like they had uncovered the Kings own treasure.

Even Leo seemed to be enjoying himself, flirting as he was with Charles Vane. She found herself smiling in amusement; the man who only a couple of hours ago had seemed so uptight, was now considerably the worse for wear.

It was easy, though, to get swept up in the buzz of the place. Easy to adopt the mentality of these pirates. She knew she should stop drinking, should have stopped a while ago, even as she accepted another tankard of frothy ale from some weathered man with a gold tooth who winked at her and shamelessly stared down her cleavage. But then, even on the Waverider she had known what would happen, once she entered the pirates lair.

She could tell herself it was to maintain her cover, could scream it at anyone who would dare question her, but in her heart, she knew it wasn’t the truth. Tonight, she too needed a way to get through to the cold light of day. Needed a night without Mallus, and fear, and nightmares. Without the pain of loss and unfulfilled revenge.

And so, just for tonight, she wasn’t Sara Lance, but _Jac Sparrow_ , a great and fearless captain who ruled the seas.

She allowed herself to unwind as the sounds of laughter and revelry washed over her. A couple of scruffily clad youths were playing a lively ditty on a beat up accordion and tambourine that was missing half it’s bells. A cacophony of tuneless voices rang out about the place, joining in with the chorus. There was something familiar in the chords, though she couldn’t quite place it.

Her mind wandered here and there, down dark passages of the past, without being able to settle on any one thought in particular, and she was only distantly aware of the blustering and swagger of the conversation about her.

Tendrils of smoke snaked between them, the distinctive tobacco cheroots that had sent Ray into fits of coughing when they first arrived, and something else, a sickly sweet scent she hadn’t before encountered. It was a heady aroma, one which seemed to cloud her senses and fill her head with cotton wool.

A measure of flaming absinthe was slammed down onto the table in front of her, effectively startling her out of her trance. A heavy hand clapped her on the back as it’s owner forced a space at the table next to her.

Blackbeard’s movements appeared clumsy; all the more apparent for his imposing size.

“Your thoughts seem to have taken you, Captain Sparrow. You were reliving our glorious battle perhaps?”

She allowed him a tight lipped smile and, without comment, took the proffered green spirit, covering the top and extinguishing the flames. Ignoring the slight burn to her palm. Beside her Blackbeard did the same and then they both tipped back the heated contents, holding the alcohol in their mouths and inhaling. The scorching gasses filled Sara's lungs and she held her breath and closed her eyes.

A dizzying rush came upon her before it settled. She swallowed and opened her eyes. The bar seemed brighter than it was, the music louder. Blackbeard was watching her, an amused expression on his face.

“The green fairy...” he tipped his empty glass towards her before placing it gently on the table, an action at odds with the rest of his excited manner. “A drink befitting the ferocious captain who fights like a she-devil.”

At his words the men flanking them all picked up their own tankards in a chorus of ‘Arr's’ and ‘Aye's’ and other, less comprehensible words. All showing their agreement.

Apparently her fight against Kuasa hadn’t gone unnoticed. The pirates choosing to overlook the fact that she had been sorely and resoundingly defeated, and instead hailing her a hero for being able to stand her ground for so long where all others had failed, and apparently chasing ‘the witch’ off.

She hadn't corrected them over their mistaken notion.

“If you’re trying to get me drunk, Captain Blackbeard, then it’s working.”

She mock glared at him. Her speech just the slightest bit slurred.

He laughed his hearty bellowing laugh, as though it were the most amusing thing he had ever heard.

“I wouldn’t dare even try, Sparrow. I’m convinced you could drink every hapless fool here under the table.” He laughed again gesturing expansively round, before sobering.

“Well what say you, woman, on the matter of our allegiance? Surely you have had more than enough time with your pointless deliberations. Swear your oath and join us.”

His intensity overtook her and a shiver ran down her spine. For a moment the question seemed like the most important thing in the world, before she registered at the back of her mind that it wasn’t real at all. Surely if it was, there would be no debate in her mind.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh alright” She smiled. It was best to keep him onside, for now anyway.

He grinned brightly, and clapped her once more on the back. She found herself returning the grin, as the electric atmosphere seemed to intensify in another round of drinks, and toasts and cheers, until her ears were ringing and her vision swam in dizzying circles around her.

“ _Sara, Leo? Do you copy?_ ”

A voice in her ear brought her back to reality.

The toasts were finished, and she appeared to be involved in some lively debate with Leo, Blackbeard and Charles Vane. She didn’t, for the life of her, have the slightest clue as to what the topic of the discussion was.

Judging by the state of her drinking companions, it wasn’t a conversation that would be remembered come the morning.

Under the pretence of going out for air, she exited the bar on numb legs, floating across the floor. Passing by the dreamlike figures slumped on stools, and hunched around tables; their faces vivid and vibrant. Every movement they made seemed exaggerated and cartoonish so that she almost forgot her purpose in favour of stopping to stare at the absurd parodies of humanity.

The cool breeze caressed her hypersensitive skin with a gentle touch the moment she stepped outside. She took a deep breath in through her nose, enjoying the smells of the sea, and the freedom of being unobserved. She felt clammy and beads of sweat coated her forehead; she hadn’t even been aware of being too hot inside. Her eyes were saucers as they darted about, ever watchful, even as the full moon dazzled her where it hung like a huge ghostly spectre rising out of the bay.

“ _Captain, do you read_?” Ray’s voice brought her once more back down to earth.

***

“ _Sure Ray, I’m here. You good?_ ”

“We're fine, but... it’s the anachronism. It’s a level 12. L'Olonnais managed to steal around half of the weapons before we got here...”

There was a pause which Ray assumed was Sara digesting the information. At his side, Agent Sharpe hovered around him, oddly antsy. She was evidently more worried about the state of this anachronism than he had thought.

“ _Shit_ ” Came Sara’s reply. “ _Okay, any clues as to where the bastard is now?_ ”

Ray wondered at his captain's unusual choice of phrasing, but he didn’t dwell on it. She had been spending a lot of time amongst pirates after all. He knew in the past when he had been keeping Mick company for long periods, even he himself had been known to let slip a few unsavoury words from time to time.

“Errr, no, not exactly. Gideon can’t find any trace of them. I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye out.”

“ _Sure... Yeah. Look, Ray, I can’t really talk now, someone’s coming. Just... Can you handle it your end? And we'll stick with Blackbeard in case he shows up here._ ”

“Yeah no problem. But Sara you should know that...”

Ray frowned as the com cut off before he had chance to add ‘Agent Sharpe is here.’

Sara had sounded slightly off. Her words were a little slurred. Nothing major, and it wasn’t as though his friend ever had the sharpest pronunciation. And tiredness, relaxation, flirting, humour; any one of these and more - he had observed - increased this natural tendency.

Still, the small flicker of doubt that had been worrying away at him for the last week or so had once again raised its ugly head.

“What is it?” Came the curt question from next to him. He started; he had completely forgotten the agent was there. “Is she okay?”

“What..? Yes, she’s fine.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Its nothing, she just cant talk... People coming.”

Agent Sharpe eyed him suspiciously, bestowing him with a piercing gaze. He shifted uncomfortably beneath it. He wasn’t even really lying. But somehow it still felt like he was.

He wished again that he was with Mick and Zari, and the Agents that they had been ‘persuaded’ to take with them. Off playing Indiana Jones and having all the fun. Instead of being stuck here trying to keep cool under the watchful gaze and endless questions of Little-Miss-Time-Bureau Agent Sharpe.

He felt bad the instant the thought entered his head. To be fair to the woman, she had been mostly polite since she arrived. And she was offering assistance. Sara had wanted her to be involved from the start, and had brought her in to help with Beebo too, so she couldn’t be all that bad. Maybe he just needed to give her a chance.

“Tea?” He blurted.

His companion just looked at him with that withering stare that reminded him so much of an old school teacher.

“Ah,” he cleared his throat, “Would you like some tea, agent?”

For a moment she held his gaze, posture tall and rigid. He watched as she visibly deflated in front of him, shoulders losing their tension and slumping ever so slightly. Watched as the agent became human, with her tired, worried eyes and nervous biting of her lower lip.

“Yes, that would be nice actually” she sighed. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome” he replied, giving her a genuine smile, even as it pulled at his painful lip.

***

“Here we go.”

Ten minutes later Ray placed a steaming mug down in front of Agent Sharpe, who was seated in the dining room, in a manner that suggested she was feeling far from comfortable.

“It’s my special chamomile, lavender and rose blend” He beamed, hoping his signature infusion would serve to relax the uptight lady.

The agent eyed it suspiciously with a raised eyebrow, but thanked him nonetheless, and brought the mug to her face, inhaling deeply.

She closed her eyes momentarily, apparently experiencing it’s calming aroma, as Ray had been certain she would. After all, he had spent many hours tinkering with different flavours and quantities until it was just right.

An awkward silence began to descend as the two sat there sipping on the too hot beverages just for something to do.

“What’s really going on Dr Palmer?” It was Agent Sharpe who eventually interrupted the quiet, sounding once more like the stern Time Bureau employee he was familiar with.

Although he didn’t have the faintest clue as to what she was referring. He had already filled her in on most of the details of their mission. He looked at her blankly trying to think.

“With Sa..Captain Lance. I heard what Ms Tomaz said. I’m not an idiot, and if there's something wrong with her I need to know.”

Ray looked down quickly, suddenly finding an urgent need to repeatedly stir his tea, as he avoided meeting her eye.

“It’s nothing, really. Zari was just being...”

“Ray...” He was cut off, surprised by the unexpected use of his first name. He looked back up at her, to find the guarded expression gone completely. She looked younger, vulnerable. It was an attractive look on her, and Ray swallowed as he noticed for the first time.

“...I’m not asking as an agent, or because I’m looking for some excuse to try and arrest her or undermine her with the Bureau.” She sighed and appeared to struggle with something for a few seconds. “I’m asking because...well, I’ve been getting to know Sara over the last few weeks, and, as hard as it is for you to believe I’m sure... well... I’ve come to care for her.”

She finished, a tinge of pink touching her cheeks. She cleared her throat awkwardly, fiddling with her shirt sleeve, obviously embarrassed at her own admission.

“Care?” He repeated, somewhat dumbfounded by her revelation “ _For Sara?_ You care for Sara.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, that’s clearly what I said, Dr Palmer.” The woman growled in a way that would probably have made Mick proud.

“OMG, you have feelings for Sara! _That’s great_! Does she know? Are you two like, dating? I mean... I think you mean feelings... right? He had started to stumble over his words in his haste to wrap his head around this new information.

“Okay, firstly; no we are not dating. Secondly; I mean that I care about her in a way that if she is in some kind of trouble, then I want to know. To help.”

Ray nodded his understanding. Even as he was still trying to assimilate this new Agent Sharpe, Ava, really, with his pre-existing knowledge of her. She had always seemed so cold and business-like that he had struggled to envisage there might actually be a real person underneath the suit. Someone capable of actual feelings.

He wondered when it had happened, and how he had failed to notice.

And did Sara also have feelings for Ava? The Captain wasn’t exactly forthcoming when it came to talking about her emotions, so it was hard to say.

But then, the more he thought about it, she _had_ been requesting the other woman’s assistance quite frequently of late, something which had struck them all as unusual. They had put it down to being a knee-jerk reaction to losing Martin, but maybe there was something more to it. And Sara did always seem to talk about her. At first it was to generally moan and grumble, but now it was in other ways, subtle things, such as what would the Bureau think of this, or how would they do that? That the agent was missing out on the opportunity to visit New Providence and dress up as a pirate.

Now he really thought about it, it seemed that Ava Sharpe was never very far from Sara Lance's mind at all.

“Tell me what you’re so worried about... _Please_?” There was a hint of pleading in her voice.

He felt conflicted. On the one hand, the woman seemed to genuinely care, but on the other, he still didn’t feel comfortable talking to her about Sara, it felt too close to a betrayal.

“She’s just... not really seemed herself lately.” He settled on. “She's been a little on edge.”

“In what way?” Ava pushed.

“Mood swings. And she loses her temper really quickly. It’s actually a little scary.”

Ray was thinking about it now. Properly. Not that he hadn’t before. He had even spoken with Nate and Amaya about it. But somehow, with Agent Sharpe, things suddenly seemed to come into focus a little clearer. She wasn’t trying to convince him everything was fine, or rationalise his observations, or say that Sara just needed time; as they had all done to each other.

In fact she was looking at him with a mask of concentration on her face, as if she was absorbing every word.

“She seems distracted as well. And I don’t think she’s been sleeping much, or eating properly.” Frown lines creased his forehead. “I don't know, maybe it’s nothing...”

“Mmmm, maybe,” Ava responded, preoccupied. Staring into her tea as if it held all the answers.

“And she’s had a lot going on lately. But then, she has before too, and she always deals with that okay, well mostly.” Ray added, arguing with himself in that way he knew he had when he was worried about something.

“ _Really_? From what I can gather she doesn’t usually deal with things at all.” She eventually looked up at him.

Then her voice became sincere.

“Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to her, when this mess with the pirates is cleared up... Just, keep an eye on her for me?”

They descended into silence again as they continued sipping their tea. Unlike before, this time the quiet was comfortable, and Ray felt that the two of them had at least reached an understanding. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if they got their acts together and decided to give it a go. Maybe Ava was just who Sara needed.

A voice from the ceiling broke him out of his rather pleasant and peaceful thoughts.

“I thought you might like to know, Dr Palmer, that Ms Iwu's condition has stabilised, and she now has a 95% chance of making a full recovery. Both her and Ms Jiwe have been placed under sedation and are resting in the med-bay.”

“Great! Thank you Gideon!” He felt a knot of tension release from his chest. He knew they would pull through! Looked like everything was getting back on track...

“That’s the good news. Unfortunately I also have bad news for you too. The team appear to have activated one of the defence mechanisms I warned you about and the entire island has become critically unstable. By my calculations we have approximately seven minutes until it, and everything on it, implodes.”

“ _Argggh_ _Gideon_!!” Ava exclaimed in apparent exasperation at the cheery, leisurely way the AI had of delivering bad news.

“ _What_? It’s not my fault. I did warn you that the relics were guarded by ‘booby traps’ as Mr Rory put it.” Gideon sounded put out.

“What about the team? Are they okay?”

“They’re all in one piece for now, Dr Palmer. Currently they are still in the temple, but are making their way back to the ship.”

“I’m gonna go help them out.” He said, already reaching into his pocket for the suit he never let off his person...

It wasn’t there. Funny, he always put it in the same place. With a frown he quickly checked his other pockets, and then checked again. Becoming steadily more frantic as he did.

He felt the first pinpricks of fear start to stab at his insides and he fought to push his rising anxiety down.

Ava was looking at him questioningly.

“My suit. I can’t find it.” He explained, not even caring about the edge he could hear in his voice. He suddenly felt very naked and exposed. The feeling he always got when he knew his suit wasn’t within easy reach.

“Well did you put it down somewhere?”

“I guess I must have... Gideon, can you detect where my atom suit is please?” He tried, hoping to keep his panic at bay.

“I’m sorry, Dr Palmer, but you suit does not appear to be anywhere aboard the ship.”

“The anachronism; it must have started to cement.” Ava pronounced gravely.

And then a violent tremor rocked the ship, as though to confirm her words.

They both staggered drunkenly for a moment before finding purchase against anything solid enough to hold them upright. One of the mugs skittered across the table top and clattered to the floor, shattering to pieces.

“5 minutes until island implosion...”

“We need to get to the bridge...” His eyes met Ava’s as he spoke, her own reflecting his urgency back at him.

She gave a slight nod and then they were both sprinting away, praying the rest of the team would soon be with them.

***

“I don't think I will ever grow tired of such a sight.”

The rich baritone timbre of Blackbeard’s voice cut through the quiet buzz of background noise that had been Sara's companion since she had settled herself down under the large palm tree, leaning against the coarse hairs of its ridged trunk. It wasn’t an unwelcome sound. His words seemed to touch her as though they were living breathing things, like silk against her skin.

She felt at peace, out here. She might have allowed herself to doze, had the night not seemed far too alive to waste a moment of it on sleeping. Fireflies whirred through the nearby reeds, tiny flickers of light casting a faint glow through the darkness. At some stage she had removed her boots, and the sand was cool against her feet as she buried her toes down into the rough grains, relishing the feel of it. She didn’t think sand had ever felt like this before.

“Hmm...I guess it's alright.” She replied teasingly.

He looked down at her, smiling.

“It wasn’t the moon I was referring to.”

At the pirate's words Sara felt a thrill of something pass through her.

It wasn’t unexpected. There was a part of her that had known he would come.

“Walk with me?” He offered her his hand.

Everything paused. The buzz faded away to nothing, as if all activity in the town had suddenly ceased, waiting on her to move, one way or the other. As though the insects had all stopped and were watching intently, observing. Even the moon seemed to be holding its breath.

Sara felt giddy and light, far removed from her body.

She reached out and took his hand. Allowed him to pull her up.

His strength was too great, and, unsteady, she stumbled into him. Falling against his solid frame; muscles hard and tensed.

The urge to laugh rose up from somewhere inside of her until she couldn’t keep it in. She didn’t even know what she found to be so amusing. There wasn’t anything really, but that only made her want to laugh all the harder.

She took a step back, and then Blackbeard was laughing too. That great rumbling sound that filled the air. They laughed until Sara could feel the muscles of her abdomen tense and ache, and until the tears were streaming down both their faces.

It could have been a minute or an hour, but eventually the laughter subsided, and, wiping the tears from their eyes, they tried to catch their breath. Every now and then one of them would release another chuckle, and the hysteria threatened to overtake them once again.

When they were calmer, by some unspoken agreement, they began to walk a meandering path down the beach. Sara carrying her boots in one hand, and the other arm looped through the pirate’s.

They didn’t talk, and Blackbeard began whistling a little tune. It was the same one from the bar, she recalled with a surprising amount of clarity, and again the familiarity of it struck her.

At some point they had reached the oceans edge and the gentle waves lapped up against her ankles. She smiled at the feeling of it.

Blackbeard disentangled himself from her arm, and turned so that they were facing each other, seemingly oblivious to the salty water that would undoubtedly ruin his impressive boots. He looked serious, his dark face an enigma, and suddenly all urge to laugh dissipated.

“I still find you a mystery, Captain Jacqueline Sparrow. A mystery that I greatly desire to solve...”

His voice was low and smooth. His face intense...

“A drug that I endlessly crave. You are dangerous, for a man such as myself, with much to lose. And yet I begin to find myself thinking, that I would cast my treasure overboard and sink my ships...” He trailed off without completing his thought. Though the implication was all too obvious.

“I want, no, I _need_ more than your allegiance, Jacqueline. I would have you as my pirate queen, and together we would be unstoppable. Together we would rule this kingdom...”

***

Ava and Ray hurtled through the doors onto the bridge at the same time as a panting Dr Heywood.

“What the _hellll_...” The man trailed off his sentence... “Agent Sharpe.” He added in a much more professional voice.

“Well Zari and Mick went after some old relics in the temple and set off a booby trap, and now the whole island is about to explode...” Ray succinctly explained.

“Implode” Came the disembodied voice from the ceiling. “In approximately 3 minutes.”

“... _Implode_. Oh, and my atom suit no longer exists.” Ava could tell that Ray’s voice was falsely light. She had seen the panic in his face only minutes before when he discovered it was gone.

“Ah that sucks dude.” He commiserated with his friend. “But, maybe we should, like, take off?”

“We can’t. Zari and Mick are still out there. Oh and Gary and a couple of other agents. They're on their way back, right Gideon?”

“They are but it is going to be close. We're ready to take off the moment they arrive...”

“Ah man! I _cannot_ believe you guys didn’t tell me about this. Ancient temple, hunting for relics. _Booby traps!!_ It’s like a real life Indiana Jones! Sooo cool! And totally my thing! Hello... archaeologist!” He gestured wildly towards himself.

“I know!” Ray replied, almost matching the excitement of his fellow Legend. “I must have watched Indiana Jones at least a thousand times!! And Mick and Zari don’t even know who he is! But... You were pretty busy with Amaya. Didn’t think you would want to leave her.”

The other man’s face fell, he looked torn. But Ava didn’t have time to feel compassion or anything other than exasperated at their ability to seemingly overlook the fact that they were all facing imminent death in a matter of minutes.

“I hardly think that _now_ is the right time to get into it.” She reprimanded them in her best senior agent voice. They both looked at her, sheepishly.

Then a thought occurred to her, one which she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of sooner.

“ _The jumpship_!” She exclaimed. The two men looked at her in confusion. “Look, you take off on the Waverider and I’ll wait here with the jumpship for the others. There is no point us all staying here like sitting ducks.” Even as her words came out sure, her tone brooking no argument, she felt the prickle of fear start to tighten it’s grip, clenching at her chest.

The tremors started again as she spoke, small vibrations rocking the island, getting steadily more powerful. Only highlighting the urgency of their situation.

Nate was looking at her with wide, surprised eyes. She wondered if there was a note of respect hidden in there too. But that wasn’t important, and there certainly wasn’t time to dwell on it.

“No. If anyone stays it’s gonna be me. I can literally turn myself to steel. Which gives me an advantage over the rest of you.”

“That’s all well and good and all... But, the Jumpship's back on New Providence. We left it there with Sara and Leo in case they needed a quick exit.” Ray quickly scuppered that plan.

A particularly violent tremor ripped through the island, rocking the ship, and Ava found herself on her knees. Looking up she saw her two companions were equally as sprawled on the floor.

“One minute until implosion. I suggest you all strap in.”

“ _Mick? Zari?_ Where are you? You have less than one minute!” Ray almost shouted as they scrambled to do as Gideon recommended and strap themselves in.

“ _Yeah we got that_!" Came Zari's harried voice. “ _We’re almost there_!”

Ava could feel her heart going wild in her chest. Even Ray and Dr Heywood were quiet. The latter’s face looking a little white. At least it wasn't just her that was terrified then.

Beneath them, it felt as though the island was coming apart at the seams. She didn’t know how on earth the people down there could even stay on their feet, let alone walk or move with any kind of haste.

“Thirty seconds...”

So this was it, then. The others would never make it back in time now. There was a part of her brain that wanted to scream at the men and tell them to get the ship in the air. To save themselves. She silenced it amongst the jumble of other thoughts in her head.

Regrets, mainly. Regret that she had never got the opportunity to make things right with her brother or parents. Regret that she wouldn’t live to see time restored. Regret that she hadn’t managed to tell Sara face to face how she felt about her. That she had never heard the words back.

She tried to conjure an image of the woman in her mind. Smiling and laughing. Carefree. Of how she had looked that time in the bar when she had asked Ava to dance. With desire shining in her eyes. And hope, and just a hint of vulnerability.

She had to choke back an urge to cry, so unlike her, at the thought that she would never again see that face, or the woman it belonged to; the woman that she had come to care so deeply for.

She hoped Sara would be okay. Hoped she would find a way to handle the loss of her crew without breaking apart entirely. To find a way to destroy Mallus without destroying herself. And that she would find a way to be happy.

“ _Look_!! Out there!” The excited voice of Dr Heywood brought her back to reality.

The ship was rattling so violently now that her teeth were chattering inside her head. But outside the window she saw the agents and Gary, and Mr Rory, _flying_ , speeding through the air. All with varying degrees of terror on their faces. And behind them was Zari Tomaz. Concentration and strain battling for dominion over her own face, as her totem glowed a bright red and powerful jets of air surged from her hands and feet, propelling herself and the others towards safety.

“15 seconds to implosion.”

“ _We're in. Now get us out of here_.” Came the growling bellow of Mick Rory.

“Right away Mr Rory.” Gideon complied.

The ship gave a violent lurch, but they made it only a few scant feet into the air before it crashed back, painfully impacting on the ground below.

A ground that was now criss-crossed by terrible rifts and fissures.

“Gideon... what the...”

“I'm afraid that the force of the gravitational pull around the island has become too strong for even my thrusters to overcome...”

“7...”

“You have to time jump us out of here...” Ava practically screamed.

“5...”

“Anywhere... _now_ ”

“4...”

The fabric of the island was starting to tear apart. Chunks of rock sliding away into a churning sea.

“3...”

“ _GIDEON_ ”

The ship was groaning, the pressure inside her skull was intense.

“2...”

She was gripping her head. Through vision blurred with tears she saw Ray and Nate doing the same. All around them seemed to be blinding light and crashing deafening sound.

She closed her eyes. Held her breath.

“1...”

...

***

On the horizon, the unnatural moon was glowing as bright as the sun, casting it’s brilliant white light into the inky depths of the sea, shattering into a thousand glimmering crystals on the crests of each undulating wave.

The light was reflected in Blackbeard's eyes, blending with the swirling darkness until it became a hue as deep and crimson as a ruby. Lending to them a depth as fathomless as the sea, that seemed to catch Sara and pull her down, until she felt as though she were swimming in them, being dragged ever further away from the shore.

She took a step forward, trailing a finger down the open seam of his shirt, hooking it over the topmost button and pulling slightly.

“You think you got what it takes to handle me, Blackbeard?”

He seemed breathless and there was a tell tale bulging at his crotch.

“Aye. Return with me to my ship and allow me to prove it to you?”

Something niggled at the back of her mind, something important that she was forgetting. She reached for it, but it kept floating away out of her grasp, until eventually it was lost to her entirely.

She felt herself crumbling, falling, and she gave herself over to it willingly. This is what she had come here for after all. To lose herself and to forget...

***

" _1_..."

Nothing happened. The pressure in her head abruptly faded. The ship was quiet.

She peaked an eye open and squinted about.  
It was dark, the lights of the ship low and flickering. To one side of her Ray and Nate seemed to be just coming to the same conclusion she was.

“Oh my god!! We actually made it!!” The archaeologist laughed, unbuckling from his restraint and exuberantly high-fiving Ray. “I can’t believe we made it!”

Ray wore a grin stretching ear to ear and Ava felt the knot of tension relax as the adrenaline fled from her body. She sagged slightly in her seat and shook her head.

The others traipsed in, battered and bruised, but whole. Zari particularly looked worse for wear and she slumped into the nearest seat, clearly spent. They each carried with them a heavily filled sack that Ava could only assume contained the relics. And anything else Mick Rory had decided was worth stealing.

“What the hell happened out there?” She demanded. Okay maybe she should give them a little space after their near death experience. But then, she had almost died too, and she wasn’t above admitting that she felt a little rattled.

“This _idiot_ ” snarled Mick “Couldn’t follow a simple instruction.”

He shot a glare towards Gary who withered away, looking pleadingly towards his boss.

Ava had to fight the urge to roll her eyes as she decided she really didn’t want to know just what it was that Agent Green had managed to do this time.

But then another thought hit her.

“Hang on. Gideon, just where exactly are we? And _when_?”

The room fell silent as each and every one of them waited with no small amount of trepidation for the answer.

“We are back on the island of New Providence, Agent Sharpe.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. At least something had at last gone right...

“Unfortunately, due to our impending destruction, I was unable to calculate our jump precisely, and it appears we are now four hours ahead of where we were.”

“Four hours? That doesn’t sound too bad.” Ray smiled.

“Well I, for one, am just glad to be out of there” Ava could agree with the scientist on this one.

“Here, here” Gary chimed in, only to have several angry stares thrown his way.

“Yeah Gideon, thanks for getting us out. And, thank you for waiting for us. Sorry for, you know, almost getting you all killed.”

“You’re welcome, Ms Tomaz. But I wouldn’t thank me quite yet. You see, it appears that ‘ _the Flail of the Spaniards_ ’ has reappeared in the time we were gone. And it's heading straight for Nassau, and Blackbeard’s ship...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Runs off to hide in a corner*
> 
> I'm sorry!! Please forgive me :-/


	10. The Gruesome Death of Edward Teach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the pirate adventure.
> 
> (The title is actually the title of the song I've been using throughout this whole episode. No spoilers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, our final chapter in this episode. (Which takes the word count on this episode to more than 50,000, and the whole series close to 100,000!!!)
> 
> Sorry about the wait. And sorry to all those people who were disappointed or upset with what happened in the last chapter...
> 
> I hope there are a few people who are still enjoying it though! 
> 
> As for this part, I struggled with it. A lot. And by this point I really can't tell if what I've written is any good or not! I hope it's ok, sorry if it's not.
> 
> Just to reiterate, and even though I think I put a warning about it at the start, this part gets quite graphically violent. I don't know if it's actually worse than some of the other chapters, but just in case... Sorry if that upsets anyone.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to the people who have found time to leave a comment! Your words have sometimes reminded me to keep going when the writers block has hit me hardest.

_Everything was a blur. A mass of colour and a jumble of indistinct forms._

_She could hear someone calling her name. Quiet, at first, but becoming louder. A voice that seemed so familiar._

_She spun on the spot, desperately trying to locate whoever it was that was calling her. Someone who would be able to tell her where she was. And maybe help her get home._

_All at once, everything suddenly came into sharp relief._

_She was back on the island. Not THE island; the usual one, but the island that she had visited just earlier that day. At the top of the ravine._

_Beyond, she could see the faint outline of the ruined temple rising out of the jungle foliage. Mystical. Impenetrable. And just ahead of her were the weathered rope bridges. All of them false promises of safety._

_She registered these details almost incidentally, from an instinct born of years of training. For her eyes were immediately drawn to one thing only. To the one who was calling her._

_Martin Stein. Exactly as she remembered him._

_He was looking at her with a small, sad smile gracing his fatherly features. And that’s what he had been, in so many ways. When her own father had seemed so far away, in more than just time and place._

_She called his name, smiling, and started to walk towards him, but found herself unable to move from the spot._

_She called to him again and waved, leisurely. She felt calm, as if everyone and everything was at peace, and they had all the time in the world._

_But then his smile faltered and he looked down._

_And it was only then that she realised just where he was standing._

_He was in the middle of one of the bridges. Decaying and rotten. Impossibly far from her reach._

_She tried to walk forward, to get to him, but she was still stuck._

_Martin’s lips were moving. He was trying to tell her something but the words were lost in the chasm between them, and try as she might, she couldn’t make them out._

_There was someone up there with him, she realised. Someone stood just behind him. She peered as far as she could, from her frozen position._

_Slowly, the person turned._

_It was Jax._

_She shouted for him too, and he gave the same small smile that Martin had._

_What the hell were they doing up there? And didn’t they realise how dangerous it was?_

_She tried to take a step. She needed to talk to them. To tell them how much she missed them, and that they needed to come back. And to tell them that they needed to get off the bridge, now, before they fell._

_But then, suddenly there were more people. Had they been there the whole time? How had she not noticed?_

_One by one the faces came into view._

_There was Rip and Leonard. Oliver dressed in his distinctive green hood. Felicity and John stood next to him. She started in surprise, unable to believe her eyes. The rest of the Legends appeared. And Kendra was there, holding hands with Carter. And, there was Nyssa, and Sin. Her mother and father. Laurel._

_And right at the front, ahead of the rest, was Ava._

_Ava with her long hair and wide blue eyes. Smiling at her._

_Her heart swelled for a moment, until she remembered. Remembered just where they all were and what danger they were in._

_She willed life back into her leaden limbs. Strained against the invisible chains that must be holding her in place. Her heart pounded and sweat stung her skin and still she strained. But try as she might she couldn’t move._

_Ava’s smile dropped. She was frowning now, her eyebrows knit together. Looking at her with such concern. With fear in her eyes. Sara stretched out her arm, reaching for the woman, but she was just beyond her grasp._

_She saw it happening. One by one, the fine strands of the rope holding the bridge up, keeping everyone she loved safe, began to fray, until it was down to its very last thread._

_She was screaming at them to run. And Ava was calling something back to her, equally as urgent, though the words still seemed unintelligible, as though she were speaking a foreign language._

_Then the last thread snapped, and there was nothing she could do. Nothing but watch, paralysed, with the same horror reflected on her face as in her heart._

_But they weren’t falling. And finally she could hear the words that Ava was screaming; her name, over and over as she reached out futilely, grasping at the air._

_And she realised, Ava wasn’t on the bridge at all. None of them were._

_None of them but her. It had been Sara all along._

_And with her new awareness, she felt it. The sensation of falling. The disorientation as her mind tried to catch up; the sick feeling as her stomach dropped out; and the pounding of her heart, trying to escape her chest._

_She watched as she fell away from those she loved, as she tumbled into an endless void. As their faces, so full of love and concern, became smaller and smaller._

_She fell forever. An impossible distance._

_Everything around her turned blue. And then she could feel it, him, surrounding her. Entering her with every breath she took._

_Mallus._

_Her bones turned to ice and her organs to lead. As she was surrounded by a darkness that no light or happiness could ever penetrate._

_But there was no chilling laughter. There was no voice, insidiously calling her name, no pushing into her mind. She could feel him everywhere, but somehow she could tell; he did not know she was there._

_A vision filled her mind. She was moving, gliding, through a castle, grand and vast. Ancient tapestries hanging from the walls, and iron bars guarding the windows. Everything tinged with blue. From somewhere outside she could hear dogs howling and wind battering the ramparts._

_But none of that concerned her. She was filled with an overwhelming sense of anticipation and a mirthless glee._

_Through dusty libraries and empty halls she travelled. Upwards into the highest tower._

_There, in the very centre of the room, was an open casket. She knew with an absolute certainty that this was her destination._

_Cloaked and hooded figures were gathered, stood in a semi-circle around it. Chanting in some ancient language. Runes were glowing on the floor, and moonlight was streaming in through a singular window, casting a beam as bright as a shaft of sunlight which landed on the coffin. A supernatural spotlight shining on whatever, or whoever, lay within._

_She found she was being drawn towards it. Coming inexorably closer. And even as the excitement she could feel reached a fever pitch, her rational mind screamed at her to leave this place, and a dread warred with the exhilaration within her._

_She struggled, fought with everything she had not to reach the plain wooden box. But she was incorporeal, and had no body with which to run away. And steadily she was getting nearer, until, had she the arms with which to do so she could have reached out to touch it._

_Her mind rebelled as she began to lean over the edge, so close to seeing what lay inside._

_And then she stopped dead. Fear erupted within her, and she knew; she had been found out._

_She felt, rather than saw, a pair of blood red eyes, searching for her, seeking her out. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere she could run. Rage and fury filled her senses. And then a white hot agony blistered her mind. Her nerve endings set alight as the full force of the frenzied wrath hit her. Eyes as ancient as time filled her vision. And through the torment and anguish, she knew she was looking into the face of evil._

_Just before her mind went blank, the last thing she heard was someone screaming and screaming..._

***

Sara awoke with a scream dying on her lips and lungs that were gasping for air. A heavy body was struggling against her, pinning her down. Her instincts registered danger and her body responded. Lashing out at her assailant.

Her fist connected with soft flesh, and as the body reared away, she delivered a swift kick to what she hoped was an abdomen. Wherever her strike had landed, it was effective, and the attacker fell away.

She sprung up immediately. Off the bed to crouch defensively in one corner of the small room, breathing heavily. Her heart was still racing and her head pounding, and the nausea was almost debilitating. Sweat was rolling down her skin. She didn't seem able to differentiate between what was real, and what was not.

The room was rocking, gently, side to side. Lulling. Disorientating. She could feel the blood red eyes searching her out, almost see them burning in the semi-darkness of the cabin.

A singular flickering candle, burnt almost down to the nub, was the only light in the cramped chamber. The air was close and smelt stale. And of the distinctive, lingering scent of sex. She was completely nude, and the realisation sent a spark of alarm jolting through her.

Someone was talking. Repeating the same words over and over, but they didn’t register in her brain.

A grotesque ivory skull stared at her from a shelf by her head. It’s eyes glowing red in the glinting light of the candle’s flame.

“ _Jacqueline_...”

Her name. Or it had been.

Memory flowed back to her, patchy and broken, like an old film with a damaged reel. Laughing, and drinking. Lots of drinking. The pungent scent of smoke. Disjointed faces and meaningless words. A familiar tune filling her head.

And then, standing in the surf, promising herself to the man now stood exposed and naked in front of her. Bodies tangling together in damp bedsheets, and rough kisses that hadn’t felt quite right, but that she had craved anyway.

“Jacqueline?” Blackbeard repeated the name, a note of trepidation in his voice, as he wisely kept his distance. “You are safe, Jacqueline. Whatever demons you were fighting, they belong to your dreams... But, by the Gods, you’re shaking like a leaf.” His voice had returned to normal as she looked at him, and he could see she was herself once more.

She _was_ shaking, trembling uncontrollably. She felt like a caged animal, here in this tiny room under his heavy gaze.

She could still feel the pervading menace that had permeated the air in the castle, thick and heavy with its presence. And the very essence of evil as she had looked into the eyes that were pools of blood.

She took a deep breath and tried to force the remnants of the dream away. As she desperately tried to quiet the jumble of thoughts spinning through her mind. So that she might think clearly, if just for a second.

Blackbeard approached her slowly, where she was still crouched down with her arms raised defensively. And carefully, still wary of her, he knelt down in front of her, and draped a blanket around her shoulders. Wrapping her up.

At his touch, the fight drained from her, taking with it the last of her energy. Her legs gave way and she clattered heavily to the floor. Breath coming in great gulps as she tried to feed her broken mind with oxygen. The blanket felt confining and scratchy against her bare skin, and yet she held onto it like a lifeline.

When she finally looked back at the pirate, he was watching her. His face at once intense but impassive. There was a purpling bruise already coming up on his cheek bone.

“I’m... Sorry” She whispered, not feeling herself, and cast her eyes down.

A gentle hand under her chin forced her head up. His voice was soft.

“You were calling out. Screaming for someone. ‘Ava.’ She is the one who holds your heart?”

Sara nodded and averted her eyes once more. But not before she caught the sadness that filled his.

He stood, and retreated a few steps. The wooden floorboards creaking under his weight. Sara felt glad of the space. She needed to get herself back together. And she needed to contact her team.

But the room was still spinning, and her mouth was dry. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had drunk anything that wasn’t alcohol. She was sure that there was someone hammering nails into her skull, and it felt like it was about to split open. Everything hurt.

She sighed and rubbed at her head. Tried to stand. Her legs felt as feeble as a new-born deer, and they wobbled terribly. But in the end she managed it, and just that tiny accomplishment served to at least somewhat bring her back to herself.

She was Sara Lance. A trained assassin. An ex-vigilante. And a Legend. She would not let a nightmare get the better of her. She would not succumb to a hangover or a few aches and pains.

Blackbeard was still watching her, and she felt uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“I have known many men lose themselves to the grip of the night terrors.” He shook his head. “Too many good men.”

“I’m fine.” She denied, though she knew her current state did little to support her words. “So I get nightmares sometimes. Who doesn’t in our line of work?” Her voice was falsely light. She didn’t want to discus this with him. She didn’t want to discuss it with anyone. She had told Gideon as much more times than she cared to remember.

The pirate walked over to his desk, and rummaged about in the drawer. Once he found what he was looking for, he came back to stand in front of Sara. His face was sincere.

“I want you to take this. I keep it for when my own demons become too much for me to handle. I make a point to take it only when I am at my most desperate.”

He reached out for her hand and gently placed a small ball of resin into it, curling her fingers back round over the top.

She was about to refuse his gift. To tell him she didn’t need it.

But she never got the chance.

An almighty crash had them both flying across the room. Sara ricocheted off a wall and slammed into the desk, as pain erupted in her already injured ribs. She groaned, trying to recover her breath.

Blackbeard was picking himself up off the floor gingerly. It seemed his manhood had taken the brunt of his fall. With his face the colour of puce, he limped over to his bed and began throwing clothes on.

“What the hell was that?” She demanded, joining him in trying to locate the hastily discarded items of clothing from the night before.

“Of that I am unsure. But I intend to find out...”

***

Sara emerged up on deck with Blackbeard, both still half trying to pull on clothes, fiddling with buttons and buckles and oversized shirts.

She became aware of several things all at once.

The first was that the deck was in chaos. The entire crew seemed to be running here and there, shouting, trying to grab whatever weapons they could lay their hands on. Already the acrid stench of burning filled her nostrils and cracks of gunfire split the air.

The second was the gaping hole in the rails on one side of the ship; smouldering blackened ruins of splintered wood, while fire licked at one of the sails, casting a surreal amber glow over the early morning sky.

She could hear the cries of the injured. Men screaming like babies as they curled in on themselves, guarding cooked flesh and mangled limbs. Or dragging themselves across the floor, trying in vain to escape a fiery death. Leaving a trail of blood and gore in their wake.

She knew immediately the cause of the devastation... She had seen the after-effects of a bomb before.

Through the smoke and flames loomed the dark hulking hull and tattered black sails of L'Olonnais’ ghost ship. Pulling up beside them, a silent deadly predator stalking it’s prey.

And the third and last thing Sara noticed was a portal slicing through the fabric of reality, not more than fifteen feet in front of her.

Running through it, was her team. Nate with his fancy costume and Zari, her totem already pulsing with intent. Rory had his heat gun cocked and ready, his face animated, alive in the way that only a good fight could bring about. And then Ray, his Atom suit conspicuously absent, which did nothing to stop him charging into the fray, determination painted across his face.

Sara felt a wave of relief and affection wash through her at the sight of them.

But the portal didn’t close behind her team, and then there were several more figures rushing through, clad identically in crisp blue pantsuits, and lead by an oh-so-familiar blonde.

Sara’s heart stuttered in her chest at the unexpected sight of the woman.

Shock and awe brought her to a standstill, a myriad of emotions battling for dominance within her. ‘ _She came_ ’ topped the list of thoughts running through her mind.

Ray was saying something and, with regret, she dragged her eyes away from Ava.

“Sara! Thank Beebo you’re okay! We had to time-jump four hours into the future... long story...”

“Yeah... Doesn’t look like she noticed, Ray. “ Zari chimed in, clapping the scientist on the back as she pointedly looked Sara, then Blackbeard, over.

“HaHa” Rory laughed. “The Captain bagged herself some pirate booty.”

Ray's face fell as he realised just what Zari and Mick were getting at.

Sara froze. And the world froze with her.

The pop of the guns, the roaring of the sea and of the men’s voices, all faded away. Her vision tunnelled as she looked back to Ava. And then there was just the two of them, standing amidst the carnage, locked in this one moment in time.

She saw how Ava registered the words, a brief flash of confusion crossed her face as she looked from Sara to the pirate and then back again. As she saw the evidence that was all too damming. The pair of them still half dressed, having just emerged, together, from below deck. And the look of guilt clearly painted across Sara's own face.

And then the recognition bloomed. A slight raising of the eyebrows as her head tilted back and her mouth opened in a soundless ‘o’.

Sara saw it all in an agonising slow motion. The way all the air was suddenly expelled from Ava's lungs, and as she crumpled in on herself, just a fraction, as though she had just been dealt a crippling blow to the chest. The way she shook her head the smallest amount, desperately trying to refute what her senses were telling her, but finding herself unable.

Their eyes met, Ava's wide and glistening and Sara's desperate, locked, in a second that might have been a lifetime. Ava was begging her, silently pleading with her to deny the truth, expose it for the mistake, or trick, or deception that it clearly must be.

She couldn’t.

And then Ava took a step back, and the bonds holding them bound in place severed. A wall, as solid and impenetrable as steel, slammed down between them.

Sara felt a band around her own chest, an iron fist gripping her heart. As something that had been sacred was lost.

All in the blink of an eye.

But then, as it has a habit of doing, the world resumed turning.

“Ava... It’s not...” Sara took a step forward, arm outstretched.”

“...What it looks like?” Ava interrupted, her voice cold and emotionless. “Do me a favour, Sara. Just _don’t_.”

And then the world exploded around them in a fireball of heat and flames and splintering wood.

Sara felt her body impact against something hard as she was flung back by the concussive force of the blast, and then everything faded to black.

***

She came round moments later, a dull buzzing ringing in her ears and something sticky trickling down from her hairline. The air about her tasted burnt, and it seared the raw passages to her lungs with every ragged breath.

She pushed herself up, feeling light headed. Swaying slightly where she stood.

All around her was a scene of devastation. Bodies lay strewn about. Some coming round, some twitching, and some laying very still, twisted at unnatural angles.

L'Olonnais’ lifeless crew were spilling through the breach, shuffling across the deck. Laying waste to anyone that stood in their path. Weapons discharging from withered fingers, indiscriminately, with no thought or finesse; but just as deadly nonetheless.

She saw Blackbeard next to her, back on his feet. Shaking his head as if to clear it.

Where were the others? _Where was Ava_?

She looked about frantically, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to send her spinning to the floor.

A glint caught her eye and she squinted to see the flickering light of flames reflecting off a metal surface. It was Nate, stood fast, Ray and Zari sheltered behind him, having been spared the brunt of the impact.

Mick lay some feet away, his shirt singed, and still smoking. Even from a distance Sara could make out the raw and blistered flesh marring his chest and abdomen.

Her heart jumped into her mouth, but then she saw his eyes shoot open, and he began to move, slowly at first, and then more purposeful, trying to work himself to his feet.

Her chest was achingly tight from more than just the scorching air.

And then she saw her. On a portion of the deck littered with bodies and burning embers alike.

 _Ava_.

Charred and dishevelled, but alive. Sitting up, one arm cradled against her body as she looked about blankly, trying to work out what the hell had just taken place.

And then a spray of bullets hit the already shattered mast, and with a great creak, it began to fall.

It happened in slow motion. Tattered sails flapped, throwing flames high up into the night air. Timbers crunched and snapped and everywhere bodies were scrambling, pushing and clambering over each other in a desperate bid to escape the fiery behemoth crashing down to earth.

And amidst the chaos, was Ava, hurt and disorientated, and sat directly in its path.

Sara felt her heart stop beating. Everything froze. Time narrowed down to this one singular point of existence.

She screamed out, but her voice was lost within the melee of shouts and wails already issuing from all about the besieged vessel.

She started to race forward, but found herself unable to move as a pair of strong arms encircled her waist, effectively holding her back. Her anger flared and she strained against her captor with all her strength.

It wasn't enough.

She could do nothing but watch impotently as, with a brutal impact, one of the spars came crashing down on top of Ava. As the woman Sara had come to care so deeply for disappeared beneath the sea of rigging and ruined canvas and became lost from her sight.

A beat passed, then two. And still Ava did not reappear.

Something inside Sara snapped. The box inside her mind, containing all her rage and pain and fear, shattered apart.

She howled, a snarling feral sound, issuing forth from a primal place deep within. And with it, the ever present bloodlust that constantly simmered just beneath her skin erupted. Her blood turned to fire. Every beat of her heart fanned the flames until they consumed her from the inside out.

_She was pain._

_She was wrath._

And she was filled with one singular purpose.

***

An immense pressure filled Sara’s chest and her vision turned red.

Without rational thought she grabbed the arms imprisoning her, nails piercing skin and muscle, and she ripped apart with all her strength. Relishing the sensation of bone and cartilage fracturing under the force of her grip.

A knife appeared in her hand and she lashed out, slashing violently. Grinning maniacally as cold steel met tender flesh and quivering muscle. And at the way hot blood sprayed in a steaming fountain across her skin.

She barely registered the look of surprise and pain on the man’s face, blood trickling from his mouth down into his great black beard, or how his eviscerated guts slipped out onto the floor just before he fell to his knees on top of them. The foul contents bursting out across the deck, mixing with thick blood to creep slowly away over the side.

She spun away without giving him a second look.

Striding out into the hoard of the living dead, she snapped one decaying spine and slashed the throat of the next with such force it left his head lolling uselessly back, his severed windpipe clearly visible to the outside world.

Someone charged her, and without even thinking, she hefted him effortlessly into the air and sent him hurtling into a pack of the undead, scattering them like ten-pin bowls, several careening into the railings with such a force as to splinter them entirely, and then they disappeared with howls of insanity over the edge.

She forged ahead. Again and again they came at her, and, whether living or dead, each one was cut down with a savagery that was as brutal as it was efficient.

Distantly she registered the pain of a bullet lodging in her thigh, and another scraping her side, and she whirled to find this new attacker. But he was already being cooked by the white hot fire of Mick Rory’s heat gun.

And then her way was blocked by a familiar figure wearing a cocky smile.

“Back for round three? Damien was right; you people just don’t know when to give up.” Kuasa taunted her.

The woman’s smile was replaced by a look of surprise when instead of the usual repartee, she was met only with a snarl before Sara charged, hatred burning from her eyes.

Her body slammed into a wall of water just a second too slow as her adversary evaporated in front of her. Kuasa reformed and retaliated with a powerhouse kick that caught Sara in the centre of her abdomen.

It should have sent her flying back. It didn’t. She only staggered a few paces before righting herself.

Kuasa's smile dropped and she frowned, before pressing forward. Her movements graceful and fluid, belying the deadly power behind each attack and the precision with which each blow was delivered.

Again and again Sara blocked the strikes. Without conscious thought. Acting on pure instinct. Absorbing the blows as if they were nothing.

Somewhere in a dark corner of her mind she was aware. Aware that she shouldn’t be matching the woman, that she should be lying on the floor somewhere in a pool of her own blood, with water filling her lungs. That she should be in pain, in agony. That she should be dead.

And yet she didn’t care. All she cared about was the thrill of the fight. Of taking down her enemies one by one until, watching the pain and fear playing out across their faces, they took their final breaths. Until she was the only one left standing.

Until she could get to Ava.

With renewed vigour she repelled the attack, landing a blow of her own to Kuasa’s face before the woman’s form became fluid once again.

She felt a jet of searing heat whoosh past her, and twisted to see Mick, barely able to stand, but with a fire in his eyes to match the flames of his gun.

The watery form of Kuasa began to bubble and hiss, and then became a puddle on the floor, sliding harmlessly away.

Mick gave her a gruff nod. She didn’t return it. It was all she could do to stop herself ripping him apart as she had the others. The bloodlust called to her, the rage inside her sang. Demanding more. More pain and vengeance. More death. She could feel her heart beating with it and her muscles straining.

And yet she needed to fulfil her purpose. And her way was now clear.

She growled at him, a deep guttural sound, and moved forward.

With bullets whizzing past her head, and smoke filling her nostrils and irritating her eyes, Sara finally made it to the spot where she had witnessed Ava go down.

Another figure entered her field of vision. Her face was a mask of savagery as she spun to face the intruder, ready to tear them apart.

She made it halfway towards him before belated recognition hit her. It was Ray. He was no threat to her. It remained to be seen if he was a threat to her purpose.

His face was frozen as he looked at her with an expression somewhere between bewilderment and horror, as though he hadn’t been able to make up his mind between the two. Hands raised halfway in a placating gesture.

He swallowed and opened his mouth as if to say something, though no words came out. But then a look of resolution passed over him, and he turned away from her to start searching.

She observed him, almost puzzled, and it was a second before she continued her own search.

It took an age. An age of heart pounding maybe's and dashed hopes. An age of relentless determination, and refusal to give in. Of frenzied fury, mounting madness and deepening despair.

And then finally Ray gave a shout.

And there, under a pile of rigging, was a mass of blonde hair and the cuff of a dark blue blazer. A spar coming off the main mast pinning her down. Crushing her.

“We need help...” Ray cried, twisting around, but there was no one nearby to provide any aid.

But even as he spoke, Sara was already bent down, her hands underneath the wooden pole as she began to lift it’s impossible weight. She lifted until it was level with her waist, until her every muscle was taut and her arms were trembling under the strain.

“ _RAY_...” She growled at the man who was stood gaping at her in open mouthed shock.

He shook his head as if to clear it before diving under the mess of destroyed ropes and wood and canvas sails. And then he had her, dragging her too still body clear of the wreckage.

At seeing the other woman, the strength that had imbued Sara abruptly disappeared. The rage and fury receded, freeing her mind, and she became herself once more.

***

A wall of pain hit her and every muscle cried out. The mast dropped from nerveless fingers. Her legs turned to jelly and she followed the wooden beam crashing down to the deck.

She looked about, registering the carnage around her for the first time. Bile filled her mouth and she struggled to swallow it down against her rebelling stomach. Death was everywhere. The smell of it filled the air. Bodies carpeted the deck. Lives that had been snuffed out too quickly and easily. Empty vessels, discarded like so much trash. How many, she wondered, were at her own hands? How much of their blood stained her soul?

And Ray was crouching over a figure lying prone on the floor. Fingers at her neck checking for a pulse while his ear was down low over her mouth, feeling for her breath on his face.

 _Ava_.

Her mind screamed out at her as icy fear rushed down her spine. She couldn’t quit now. Not when the other woman needed her.

Crippling pain exploded in her leg as she dragged herself up. Resisting both the urge to fall back to the floor and the dizziness that engulfed her mind, she staggered haltingly over to the unconscious woman and the scientist holding her in his arms.

Dropping down at the agents side, she brushed a strand of hair away from her face. A large bump rose ominously up on her forehead, and a nasty looking wound split the skin open on top of it. There was an unnatural pallor about her and she was floppy and lifeless.

“She's breathing. And she’s got a pulse.” Ray was eyeing Sara almost as closely as he had been Ava mere moments before.

Sara breathed a sigh of relief.

“We need to get her back to the ship.” Sara's voice was desperate.

“Time courier...” Ray pronounced, fishing around in his pocket and producing the watch-like device.

Sara nodded.

“Get her to the medbay” she ground out through gritted teeth, pain and weariness rapidly catching up to her.

Although fewer remained on each side now, the fighting was still bitter. And her team was still out there. Working together and stemming the tide. Mick, barely able to keep himself upright, refusing to retreat, delivering a flaming second death to the invaders. There was Zari, surrounded by monsters, with wind rushing from between her fingers to send them spinning through the air, only to be replaced by more. For every one dispatched, two rising up to take it’s place. And then Nate, close by, the sound of bullets bouncing off his metal skin as he charged into the pockets of heaviest gunfire.

She felt an unnatural chill wash over her, right down to her bones, and she shuddered. A chill she swore that she had felt before, in her dreams. A chill normally accompanied by a sickening laughter.

And then she saw it. The corpse laying closest to her, not more than 10 feet away; twitching. An odd jerking movement. A leg spasming, an arm flailing ineffectually, a body that should be dormant coming back to life.

All across the ship the dead were rising; a grand awakening. Sightless eyes unblinking, twisted limbs hanging at odd angles as they were yanked back to their feet by some cruel, invisible force that disturbed their eternal slumber before it had even begun.

An endless number of reinforcements to fill the ranks of Mallus’ army.

She hit her com.

“We need to retreat. Get back to the ship. _Now_ ”

She never managed to see if her command had been heeded as the heal of a crocodile skin boot was slammed against her injured thigh, and the metal encasing it ground down heavily into it.

Sara barely managed to contain the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat. Tears stung in her eyes and bile burned her oesophagus.

She needed to fight back, but all the energy had sapped from her body. Weakly, she looked up at her tormentor.

The man with a pointed face and twirling moustache, and cruel thin lips.

L'Olonnais.

He appeared far more alive than the rest of his unearthly crew, but there was still something very off about him. As though his skin didn’t quite fit his body just right. And there was a strong smell emanating off him. Pickled onions or gurkins or boiled cabbage. Or something equally repugnant.

He opened his mouth and laughed a high pitched maniacal laugh. His breath smelt of rot and decay.

A gold plated pistol was aimed at her. Staring her right between the eyes. A clear shot.

The world didn't stop.

She could feel the rocking of the ship as huge waves crashed into the side of it. It seemed to be listing heavily to one side. Evidently taking on water. Going down.

She saw Ray, an unconscious Ava gathered carefully in his arms, pause in front of an open portal to safety.

“ _GO_ ” She screamed, praying he would hear her.

She saw Zari supporting a floundering Mick, the latter barely managing to keep on his feet. Both limping towards the portal. Zari flinging aside anything that stood in their way.

And then an ominous clunk of a hammer being drawn back pulled her attention once more towards her own fate. And to a pair of lifeless yellowing eyes which held no hint of mercy.

She held his stare, refusing to look away. If this was to be her end, she would meet it with defiance.

She held her breath as the sound of a shot being fired cracked through the air. Waiting for the painful impact and then the blissful darkness. Before she was sucked down to whatever inevitable hell awaited her.

Instead she was hit with a different kind of impact. Something hard collided with her from one side and the air rushed out of her lungs. Instead of the bullets piercing her skin, she heard them pinging off something metal. Over and over again.

Then it was quiet and the heavy object rolled off her and she could breath again. Nate was next to her, ready to spring back to his feet.

And ahead, looking healthy and whole, and dealing blow after blow upon the dead pirate with an intense ferocity that was both terrifying and magnificent...

Was Amaya.

She was alright. Better than alright. Her totem was once again glowing around her neck. Sara didn’t even know which animal she had summoned. And she didn’t care.

Her friend was alive and well, and that’s all that mattered.

She relaxed back, her eyes falling closed. The last of her energy fading away.

But she wasn’t permitted the rest that she needed, and she felt a rough hand shaking her shoulder.

“Sara, come on, get up. We need to go.”

She managed to force her eyes open to find Nate's worried face hovering above her own.

She felt so tired. Exhausted. Would it really be so bad if she just stayed here a while to rest.

Her eyes drifted closed once more. Only to be again disturbed by the insistent shaking, this time even more determined.

“Oh no Captain. Don’t you close your eyes on me. Just stay with us.”

He didn’t give her any time to respond. At least that’s the way it seemed to Sara in the confines of her shattered mind. And before she could offer a protest she felt large hands slide under her and then the dizzying sensation of her body leaving the ground.

Her eyes snapped open. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be carried back to the ship, not for anything short of coma or death.

“ _Nate_. Put me down.” She demanded, as forcefully as she could muster. Which wasn’t very, she realised with some disappointment.

He halted and looked down at her, unsure.

“Seriously, I might not be at my best right now, but just remember the League of Assassins taught me many things. How to make someone suffer without leaving a mark on him. For _days_.”

Nate gulped but her words had the desired effect, and he dropped her to her feet.

A little too hard, if you asked Sara, as she was sucker-punched by both pain and nausea. Almost losing her footing again.

She refrained from commenting, and instead steadied herself on the man’s arm. Taking one agonising step forward, then another.

They were only meters away from the portal, but to Sara it might have been a mile. She grit her teeth and staggered on. And then Nate was under one arm and Amaya under the other and together they were hobbling forward, getting closer even as the ship lurched and dead limbs reached for them, the bodies ambling forward to obscure their way.

And then finally they were throwing themselves through. One second the creaking groaning wooden boards of the ship were underfoot, the acrid stench of smoke and death surrounding them. And the next step they were in the sterile surroundings of the medbay, cool and clean and nothing wooden in sight.

“Close the portal” Sara rasped to Gideon or Ray, or anyone else who was listening who had the ability to carry out her command.

The last thing she saw before the portal snapped closed was the twisted shape of Blackbeard. His eyes dead and sightless. The mess of his intestines still spilling out of the gaping hole in his abdomen to be cradled almost lovingly in his arms as he dragged himself forwards towards them. Long past the point of feeling pain or fear.

She turned away and took a slow shaky step. Gripped the edge of one of the chairs. Ava was occupying one of the others. Her eyes still closed and body motionless. Rory lay awake on another, a beam of light aimed at the mess of his torso as Gideon already worked to repair the damage. The others, including Nomusa and the Agents, were all stood around, looking at her. Suddenly she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs, and she struggled to focus.

“Where’s Leo?” She ground out. Her voice raised, the harsh tone belying the desperation that was beginning to overwhelm her.

“My sensors show that Leo Snart is still in the town of Nassau, Captain”

“Okay...” That, at least, was a relief.

Her vision was grey, and she felt very cold. A dreadful ache was blossoming in her chest, crushing her insides. Crippling her. Making it harder and harder to breathe.

“In that case, I need you to blow both those ships to hell.”

She clutched at her chest, only to feel something hard digging into her skin as she did so. The resin, given to her by Blackbeard. She must have put it in her pocket without realising.

“As you wish, Captain Lance.” Gideon’s reply seemed to come to her from across a great void. The buzzing in her head was deafening.

Her knees collided painfully with the floor as her legs gave out, and the last thing she was aware of before the blackness claimed her entirely was several pairs of hands catching her, lowering her gently to the ground.

***

“What’s wrong with her?”

The familiar voice of Ava Sharpe floated to Sara through the cocoon of darkness wrapped around her.

The voice sounded a mixture of irritation and concern, and it was so Ava that Sara wanted to smile, if only she could remember how.

“Gideon said that she’s suffering from severe Hypoglycaemia...” Another recognisable voice answered.

Ray.

His tone was hushed and delicate, as though he was talking to someone in a library or hospital. Or a mortuary.

“But... how is that possible? Sara doesn’t suffer with diabetes.”

“Working theory... She expended more energy than she had available during the fight on the ship, but her body didn’t give out like it should have, so she just kept on burning more...” His voice wasn’t convincing at all.

Sara was becoming tired with the conversation. She knew that they were discussing her, but the words didn’t make any sense. And within her blanket of not-quite-unconsciousness, Sara felt relaxed and peaceful.

“She also suffered a relative hyperkalaemia, which caused her heart rhythm to become dangerously unstable, and an excessive build-up of lactic acid in her muscles, which caused her kidneys to start to fail. In fact, Gideon said that Sara’s entire body chemistry is out of whack. And that’s not to mention the other injuries she sustained that Gideon hasn’t even been able to start working on yet.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and Sara felt a soft hand rest over hers. A feeling of warmth spread throughout her at the gentle, caring touch, and it was as though a light had been switched on, forcing away the darkness. She tried to grip the hand holding her own, but when she looked down, it turned out that she didn’t seem to possess the limb after all.

“It doesn’t make sense.” There was a tremble in the agents softly spoken words that Sara wanted nothing more than to be able to sooth away.

The warmth of the pressure on her hand disappeared. When Ava spoke again, it was with a voice that was set with resolve. The emotion that had been present before suddenly extinguished.

“Will she be okay?”

“Once I have treated her ailments, and _if_ she allows her body the time it needs to rest and recuperate, then there is no reason why Ms Lance should not make a full recovery.” A new voice chimed in. If Gideon had the ability to sound exasperated, this would be it.

“Good... Well, in that case, since the anachronism has been... _fixed_ , and my presence here is no longer required, I shall return to the bureau. Thank you for your hospitality. And for healing my injuries, Gideon.”

“You are quite welcome, Agent Sharpe”

“No, Ava, you don’t have to go. Sara would want you to stay. I know she would.” Ray’s voice was soft and sad, and penetrated the haze in her mind.

She struggled to wake up. So that she could tell Ava herself not to leave. That she wanted, _needed_ , her by her side.

“I’ll be more use at the bureau. And I think I’ve made quite enough of a fool out of myself here as it is.” Her voice held a hint of finality as it faded away. It’s owner evidently already making her way out of the room.

‘ _No, Ava_ ’ Sara shouted into the void of her mind. She had it all wrong. She hadn't made a fool out of herself at all. Sara just needed to wake up so she could explain...

She felt the storm of her temper churning inside of her once again. Anger at herself, and at Ava for walking away. She felt her heart rate pick up. Heard the beeping of the monitors become frantic.

“Goodbye Ray”

Sara's eyes shot open as she took in a great lungful of air.

“ _Ava_ ” She gasped as she ripped the band from around her wrist and stumbled up.

“I strongly advise you against leaving Captain. I have yet to finish healing your injuries”

Sara ignored the AI, and the resultant huff and disgruntled chuntering emanating from the ceiling, as she staggered out.

She didn’t feel right. The Waverider swayed about her, and her perspective and focus were off, so that she felt as though she were wading through a dream.

Gideon must have had her on a strong sedative.

The pain from her injuries felt dull and distant, as though it didn’t belong to her at all.

The light was too bright, it hurt her eyes and pierced through her skull, and she couldn’t seem to focus. The buzzing was back, muffling the din of sound about her. There were too many people all hovering nearby, Legends, and suits, but none of them the person she so desperately wanted to find.

Then she saw her. Still wearing her dirty, dishevelled blazer. Standing tall and commanding, despite everything, with her back turned to Sara, striding purposefully towards an open portal.

“Sara!” Someone gasped. Amaya, maybe. “What are you doing up?!”

But Sara barely registered the words as she pushed past.

“ _Ava_ ”

Finally the woman turned to her. And for the second time, the world narrowed down to the two of them.

Sara saw the baby blue of Ava’s eyes widen slightly in shock, emotion flashing behind them before they hardened once more. Flitting away, taking in the others, her surroundings, looking anywhere but at Sara.

Her arms folded across her chest. A defensive, protective posture. Waiting for Sara to speak, to say or do something.  
But now she was here, now they were face to face, the words wouldn’t come, and the stiff agent began to turn back around.

“Ava, wait. _Please_ , don’t go.” She practically begged.

Ava spun back around to face her, a mask of barely concealed irritation clear upon her features.

“What do you want, Ms Lance?”

And Sara cringed at the formality in her words.

“Are... you okay?” She came up with, even as she was the one with pale, damp skin and who was practically swaying on the spot, blood still oozing from the wound in her leg.

Ava sighed and uncrossed her arms. “I’m fine...” She finally focused on Sara, looking her up and down, something shifting in her eyes as she did. “Clearly in better shape than you. I can’t believe that Gideon permitted you to leave the medbay like this.”

“I’m... fine.” Sara waved her off, even though the lie was plain to see.

Ava gave a short humourless laugh. “Right...” The walls had come back up.

“Look, could we, I don't know... go someplace. Talk?”

“Talk about what? How the Legends have once again managed to nearly screw up all of history? Or how their captain has managed to once again _screw_ all of history.”

Sara took a step back at the venom in Ava's words.

She was dimly aware of the uncomfortable shuffling of the unwitting spectators around them.

And yet the fire under her skin had started to burn at the accusation.

“That’s not fair, Ava, and you know it...” she took a step forward once more, closing the physical distance between them.

“No, Sara, what’s _not_ fair is you leaving your team to clean up after you while you go and get drunk and sleep with your anachronism...

“What’s not fair is leading people on, making them believe that you might actually like them, and then when they confess their feelings to you, rather than dealing with it like a mature adult, or a decent human being, you go off and screw the first person you can. And damn the consequences and anyone who gets hurt in the meantime...”

“ _What_? Confess your... Ava, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“ _You_! You are reckless and irresponsible, and you clearly have no regard for anyone or anything. Look at you, you’re a mess...”

“Wow, this is really awkward” was mumbled in a stage whisper from somewhere behind them, but Sara barely even noticed.

She couldn’t think about anything other than the woman in front of her, and how her heart was slowly breaking apart.

“Clearly it’s me who's the real idiot.” Ava continued, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, as she tried and failed to hold back her emotion. “An idiot for ever thinking that you were different than just what was written about you in your file. And an idiot for thinking that there could ever be something between us...

“Goodbye, Captain Lance.” Her tone was formal and icy.

Sara was only able to stand there helplessly and watch as the woman turned on her heel and stepped through the portal, not looking back once. The gaggle of agents trailed dutifully after her.

And then the portal snapped shut, taking with it all promise of hope and happiness, and Sara was left standing in the now silent corridor of the Waverider, staring after it.

She became aware of shuffling behind her, and the awkward clearing of a throat.

She took a ragged hiccupping breath, trying desperately to push her feelings down. So that she might be able to face the others.

But it wasn’t working. Not this time. She wanted to cry. Could feel the tears, unbidden, rising to her eyes. She needed to hit something. And inside of her, mixing with the pain and despair and longing, something was rising. Pressure. _Panic_.

She was losing control.

“Sara. Are you alright?” A soft voice said from just behind her.

Amaya. The woman rested a hand gently on her tensed bicep, but Sara shrugged her off and stepped out of reach. Barely controlling the instinct to snap the offending limb.

“Please... just leave me alone” She practically pleaded, her voice shaking terribly, and she took a couple of tremulous breaths to try to steady herself. Back leant against the wall now, eyes squeezed shut.

Another pair of footsteps approached and came to a halt besides Amaya.

Her breathing was becoming rapid and the band was tightening around her chest again.

“Sara I really think it would be best if we got you back to the medbay...”

“I said, _LEAVE ME ALONE_...”

She exploded, punctuating the words by slamming her fists into the wall behind her, the reverberation echoing out like thunder. Pain and menace pouring out of her, unable to be kept at bay any longer.

A deafening silence followed, only broken by the ragged sound of her breathing. She didn’t dare open her eyes. She didn’t want to see the hurt on their faces. The fear, or horror, or disgust, or any of the other agonizing emotions she knew would be reflected back at her if she were to look.

Slowly she slid down the wall, head in her hands. Coming to rest on the cold hard metal floor.

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that. Back to the wall, eyes shut and fists clenched.

But when she finally dared open her eyes, she was all alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go, that's the end of the pirates and 1718 (or whenever I said it was set).
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the ride, even though it finished with our girls in a bad place. 
> 
> Oh yeah, and sorry I lied before, the episode title - total spoiler!
> 
> Although it's the end of this story or episode, the series will continue! I shall get writing the next part very shortly. 
> 
> Having said that, I'm yet to decide on how I will post it. There is a chance that I might wait until I have it all written, and then post twice weekly, to avoid long gaps like we have had with this one. Or not. Guess we'll see!
> 
> On that note, I'll sign off for a while. Let me know what you thought of it... maybe any suggestions or improvements I could make. I'll try to reply to all comments :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought... if you like it or maybe not so much. All reviews appreciated :)
> 
> Also, I haven't yet seen any of the new episodes, so no spoilers please :)


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